


Frangendum Est

by Mythril (fantacination)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubcon Kissing, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fantasy Violence, Incubus Shiro, Keith fails to deal, Keith is a virgin, M/M, Minor Character Death, also apparently a plot point, and now introducing more spn flavor, great liberties taken with the mythos here, incubus fic bc why not, incubus!Shiro is great at his job except when he really fails at it, ok so maybe the plot got a little bit out of hand
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-09-10 18:37:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8928547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantacination/pseuds/Mythril
Summary: Keith doesn't know what he did to deserve this. 'This' being six feet of gorgeous with horns and a tail. 
(Alternately: Incubus!Shiro is on a mission and that mission is Keith's virginity.)





	1. Chapter 1

It wasn’t that Keith had ever been particularly religious. He wasn’t even really sure he believed in the paranormal or the supernatural. But he'd always believed things happened for a reason... he just didn’t know what he'd done to deserve _this_.  
  
'This' being the tall, dark-eyed man walking two paces behind him. A man that nobody could see unless he chose to be seen.

Unlike earlier this morning, the man was dressed. He was in a long dark coat and a three piece suit, a pair of rimless glasses perched on his straight, scarred nose. But the eyes that stared through them were slit-pupiled. Peeking out of his short dark hair, spaced on either side of a white streak, were two large, tightly-curled ram's horns. He was pretty sure there had been great big wings and a tail. But all that had been neatly tucked away into the folds of his crisp, perfect outfit.

Keith would’ve thought him a hallucination from too many late nights at work and not enough jerking off. But he didn’t think even his admittedly healthy libido could’ve dreamed up a man like this.

He’d barricaded himself in the bathroom, at first, but the _creature_ had simply walked through the wall to inform him his phone alarm was going off.

He’d done a little research on his phone but nothing he’d found suggested any reason for why he was being… haunted? Targeted? Nothing really checked out.

And of course, there was the small matter of him _still_ following Keith around.  
  
"You seem wound up. Didn’t get enough sleep?" He asked sweetly, like he was a friend. Like he was making small talk at a corner cafe. He looked like a nice guy, maybe a yuppie or a teaching assistant at a reputable university. He even had a name: Shiro. One of many, he bet.

Keith knew better.  
  
He ignored ‘Shiro’, stalking down the street. The crisp autumn air stung his cheeks enough that pulling his scarf up would hardly be remarked upon.  
  
"I only ask," the man continued, "because I'd be happy to help you relax." He stepped in front of Keith, forcing him to bump into him. He took his bare hand and pressed it to his mouth, fingertips slipping in between his soft lips.

Keith pulled his hand back like he’d been scalded. He might as well have been. The inside of Shiro’s mouth felt like the opening of a furnace, if furnaces had forked tongues.

“Stop talking to me,” Keith said tersely, ducking his head so people wouldn’t notice his lips move. “I’m not interested in whatever you’re dealing. Go find someone else. Anyone else.”

Shiro hummed softly. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“How does it work, then? Because I woke up and you were _naked on top of me_ ,” Keith demanded, walking around Shiro so he could continue to the no-kill animal shelter he worked at: Lowenhaus.

The shelter was a squat little building at the end of a short driveway. It had a fenced in yard for the animals to roam around in and a small garage where they kept their rescue truck. They were privately funded by a wealthy family’s foundation, which was a good bit of why they could afford to do what they did.

“Is this a punishment? Did they send you to torment me?” Keith guessed as he opened up, pulling the grill to the side and unlocking the door.

“No, not exactly,” Shiro said, but he offered nothing else, stepping inside the chilly office.

The kennel part of the shelter had the heating on overnight, but to save a bit on costs, they usually let the office get cold. Keith walked over to the heater and started it up, rubbing his hands together. It wasn’t quite cold enough for full gloves so he was sticking to the fingerless ones until he was in danger of frostbite and Hunk made tutting noises at him.

Keith glared at Shiro when he showed no signs of disappearing.

“So this is where you work,” Shiro commented, looking at the photos of pets up for adoption along the front wall.

“Yeah, one of them,” Keith shrugged. The job paid, but it wasn’t enough to cover everything.

He slipped his bulky coat off, bracing himself for the chill that prickled through his thinner shirt and went to the backrooms.

Instantly, a chorus of soft mews and yips greeted him from the animal pens. “Alright, alright, breakfast is coming,” he chuckled, opening the food bins so he could start dishing out kibble.

He checked in on the injured rescues after that, making sure they were comfortable and ate or got their medicine. He frowned when one injured kitten wasn’t interested in breakfast, taking her gently out so he could bottle-feed her.

Once he was done, he found Shiro playing with one of the dogs for fostering, a mutt with long ears indicative of a strong beagle ancestry.

“That’s Flopsy,” Keith said, forgetting for a moment that Shiro wasn’t real. That he was very likely some weird hallucination born out of three day old chinese take-away and stress.

“He’s very docile…” Shiro commented as Flopsy licked his fingers. Could all animals see spirits? Or did that mean Shiro was somehow corporeal? He knew that sometimes animals would stare at an empty corner. Maybe they had an instinctive sense for the supernatural.

“That’s because he can’t bark. See the scar? Someone cut their vocal chords so they wouldn’t be noisy.” Keith said it clinically. Flopsy’s case was less uncommon than he’d like, but he worked here because he liked animals and he understood reality.

The bell by the front door chimed softly.

“Keith, I brought donuts!” Hunk called from the front. “Get ‘em while they’re fresh!”

Keith smiled. He hadn’t had any breakfast after all the excitement.

“No donuts for you,” he told Shiro, then washed up and moved back into the front office.

“I don’t eat human food,” Shiro reminded, and followed him anyway.

He sat on Keith’s chair, his coat and jacket disappearing. He dragged a finger down his tie, loosening it so it hung like a necklace in expensive black silk. The buttons on his crisp white shirt undid themselves, revealing tanned, well-shaped clavicles and a hint of the broad, muscled chest he’d seen last night.

Keith picked up a plain glazed donut and studiously ignored him.

“You okay? You seem a little distracted,” Hunk asked, concerned. He had the day’s mail and was sorting them at the desk, piling bills to one side and letters of inquiry to the other. Junk mail and flyers went to the wastebin at his feet.

He’d also started the fussy coffee machine they had on a sidetable. Hunk was magic as long as it involved food. The damn thing wouldn’t start for Keith no matter how many times he tried power cycling or cleaning the filters.

“I’m fine. Just didn’t get a lot of sleep,” Keith explained. Because of his uninvited guest.

“Maybe you should sit down, then. You can nap- I can take over for a while.”

Keith eyed the amused look on Shiro’s face. Keith mouthed ‘get out of my chair’ at him, but that only made Shiro laugh, a rich little thing that made him wonder how Hunk couldn’t hear it.

“Maybe later,” he said, instead. Demonic spirit or not, he had to get tired of this at some point.

“If you’re sure,” Hunk said amicably. He had what looked like an actual newspaper tucked in with the letters.

“Newspaper? They still make those?” Keith asked. The front page was about the freak hurricane spotted yesterday afternoon.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I got it free with the donuts- old-fashioned diner kind of place,” he mused.

Prospective clients trickled in as the day passed- a single parent who was looking for an older pet, preferably house-trained, to keep his daughter company, a married couple who wanted to adopt two cats, and a college-aged student who had visited before but hadn’t quite decided yet.

His legs had gotten tired enough after the student left that he had weighed his options and decided to sit on his chair. If Shiro was a hallucination, he reasoned, it was all in his head and there wasn’t any need to be polite to a hallucination.

Shiro beamed at him as he approached. Keith ignored it and slipped into the gap between the creaky chair and the worn-dull desk, sitting down.

It was a mistake.

The chair didn’t feel like a chair at all. He was back to chest with a warm, solid bulk, feeling instantly dwarfed. He wasn’t nearly drunk enough to be climbing into anyone’s lap, figment of his imagination or no.

Shiro’s hands slipped around his waist, buckling on top of his stomach. “Not so hard, was it?” he asked, breath ghosting against Keith’s ear.

Keith shuddered and tried to stand back up.

Shiro wouldn’t let him. “You should take better care of yourself. The only time I want your legs tired is if you’re shaking from riding my cock.”

Keith felt his dick harden traitorously even as he elbowed Shiro in shock.

The demon hardly seemed to feel it.

“Shut up,” he hissed.

“You say something, Keith?” Hunk asked distractedly, doing the paperwork for the married couple from earlier. They’d be coming back on another day for a proper visit, but in the meantime they needed to log their record and see if they came up with any black marks for whatever reason. It was a neat little program Pidge had developed- they’d learned not to ask too many questions on how.

“No, nothing,” Keith said, and dug his fingers into the meat of Shiro’s thigh to warn him before booting up the ancient computer so he could do some of his own filing.

Shiro was like a very large and inappropriately cuddly lapdog. But he wasn’t really _doing_ anything, so after one last glare, Keith set a few backlogged applications from last week on the table and started to encode them in the system.

For a while, he was really almost comfortable, typing away and leaning against the convenient space heater Shiro provided, despite being some weird sex demon. The work itself was slow, but easy to get lost in. Once he was done, he turned to the emails he had to reply to.

He was starting to get engrossed in correspondence from an affiliated shelter who wanted to ask if they could take in a small litter of puppies when he felt Shiro’s hands drift from his middle to his thighs, fingers curving over the inside seam of his jeans and pressing.

“What--”

“Hm? Don’t mind me. I just want you to feel good,” Shiro hummed, smoothing down to Keith’s knee firmly enough that he could feel it through the thin mock-denim. His lips were at his neck, pressing gentle kisses. Firm lips caught the tender flesh of his ear and sucked on it slowly.

Heat suffused Keith abruptly, pooling alarmingly in his groin. He tried to stand up and found Shiro’s grip prevented it, as it had before.

“I’m at work you randy demonic pest,” Keith hissed at him under his breath and pinched. Shiro winced a bit, but didn’t let go. Keith glanced up to check if Hunk had noticed, but he’d put his earphones in, humming along to music.

Shiro followed his gaze interestedly. “He’s a good friend to you,” he noted. “Or maybe more?”

Keith scowled at him, though not out of indignation. “He’s just nice. He’s nice to everyone. He’d probably even be nice to slick-talking shits like you.”

The demon shrugged elegantly. “I’d just wondered why you’d turn me down so fiercely.”

“Maybe because I’m gay not stupid?” Keith retorted. “I’ll probably die or something after you were done sucking me off.”

“Not _immediately_ ,” Shiro said, sounding reasonable. “If it’s just once, you should be fine. And after that, I’ll disappear if you want.”

Keith narrowed his eyes, craning his neck back to look at him. Looking for tell-tale signs in a supernatural thing’s face was probably beyond stupid. Everything Shiro might say had to be a lie, or self serving truth at best.

“That's not a deal, that's extortion.”

“That's because I'm not a deal-making demon,” Shiro said patiently. “I'm an incubus.”

“And I’m not interested in either,” Keith hissed. “Go. Shoo. Crawl back into the underworld or wherever you’re from.”

“It’s more of a dimension,” Shiro offered. He skimmed a hand under Keith’s shirt, laying the broad palm on top of his taut stomach. He pressed against it, gently, and wiped it down in a single broad stroke.

Keith jumped up in a panic just as the door opened, admitting a blast of cold air and Pidge.

“Pidge? What are you doing here, it’s your off day,” Hunk said, pleasantly surprised. He took his earbuds out.

Pidge was bundled up so tightly you could only see the tip of her nose and a fall of messy, thick caramel bangs over her wide-rimmed glasses.

She was also carrying a carrier covered in a woolen blanket.

“Lance was supposed to bring them in today, but he got caught up with Dottie.”

Keith took the opportunity to wriggle out of the demon’s hold. For something that didn’t exist, he felt pretty solid.

Pidge took the blanket off the carrier, revealing three sleepy-looking calico kittens.

Hunk cooed and Keith helped her carry the carrier into the pens. They’d need to give them a quick check-up until a proper vet could come in to see them, but for now, food and water would be a good start.

"So, you look like you haven't slept. What's got you so tense?" Pidge asked as she gently placed each kitten into their new temporary homes.

Keith helped her unload the light little balls of fluff. They'd be going to their new foster home in about a week, but until then they'd need to get them situated. "I just couldn't fall asleep- tossing and turning." He shrugged. It was no big deal, normally. 

"Don't you have a shift later tonight?"

Keith shook his head. "No, last week was just to fill in for a guy who got the flu. I'll just hit the sack a little earlier tonight." He shrugged and hoped it was true. There had to be a way to get rid of Shiro before then, right? 

"Hey, uh, are you still into that occult stuff?" Keith asked, a bit awkwardly.

"You mean Wicca?" Pidge's brown eyes narrowed suspiciously in confusion. "Since when were you interested?" 

"It's not like that. I just, I saw a video of some guy trying to... i don't know, banish a demon?" Keith couldn't lie very well at the best of times, but it sounded implausible enough that Pidge might take it for truth. She considered him briefly over ther aesthetic, thick-rimmed glasses, before sighing and leaning back. 

"Well it was really only one summer so I'm not sure if I still count, but Wiccans don't really do demon summoning or exorcism anything. They don't care much about Christian spirits or aspects. Better off asking a Catholic for that stuff."

Keith nodded slowly. He'd never really paid attention to any religion, before. Maybe it was time to start. "Yeah, I guess not." 

"Did you get scared or something?" Pidge grinned suddenly. "Spirit possession and contact is really rare, you know. That guy probably just had some leaky vents and a friend willing to play along. You're like, a hundred times more likely to get mauled by a hippo." 

"I wasn't  _scared_ ," Keith protested, but that just made Pidge laugh.

By the time he got back out, Shiro wasn’t in his seat. 

Keith wondered, briefly, if he'd heard their conversation. Then, he turned his head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I. I don't know.
> 
> Disclaimer: Title is google translate.
> 
> (Also, sorry for any inaccuracies, looots of liberty taken.)


	2. Chapter 2

Shiro wasn’t in his seat-- because he was _chatting_ with Hunk. He'd redressed himself and was having a pleasant conversation. About what he had no clue, but Hunks smile wasn't strained and the tone seemed pleasant.

Keith froze at the doorway. If Hunk could see Shiro, then did that mean he was real?

Pidge bumped up against his frozen back and thumped him. “Hey mullethead, what's the hold up?”

Keith flipped her off amiably. “Do you see that guy Hunk’s talking to?” He had to make sure.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, why--  Wait. So that’s your type? He’s not bad,” she said approvingly. “Just play it cool and not like you've never had a date in your life.”

“I've had a date,” Keith frowned.

“Lance taking you to a gay bar and leaving you there doesn't count.”

“In high school!”

“Yikes, that long huh?”

They were getting off track. Pidge could see Shiro, and his horns were gone, his eyes now a uniform charcoal gray that disguised his slit pupils. Or maybe they'd changed, too. Who could tell how extensive Shiro’s powers were?

Shiro spotted him and smiled.  

Keith’s stomach tumbled like a gymnast. He stalked over, distrustful of whatever Shiro might be planning. “What are you doing?”

“Inquiring about an adoption,” Shiro said calmly.

“You can't adopt!” They couldn't give a demon one of their fosters! Hell wasn’t what they had in mind for a forever home.

Hunk frowned, clearly feeling that Keith was taking his hostility a step too far. “Did you know Shiro from somewhere?”

Keith hesitated. What was he supposed to say? ‘Yes, Hunk, he’s the sex demon I found in my bed’?

“Yeah, Keith,” Pidge said interestedly, leaning on Hunk’s desk and propping her chin on one hand. “Did you know him from somewhere?”

“No, I mean…”

“We met just today, actually. Formally, at least. We didn't exactly get to introduce ourselves last night,” Shiro explained.

Pidge blinked owlishly. “Wow, Keith-- so _that's_ what kept you up last night! I mean, congratulations! Guess you finally lost that v-card.” She raised her eyebrows at him.

“I did not!” Keith said indignantly.

“We didn't get that far,” Shiro agreed.

“But you're back for more?”

Shiro shrugged elegantly. “You could say I'm hooked.”

“And having my v-card isn’t a _big deal_.” Keith scowled. He knew his friends were aware of that- and had been ever since they had that bar night and Lance found out, but Pidge and Lance never passed up a chance to tease him about it. “Just because I’m not a slut like Lance doesn’t mean I’m enjoying life less.”

“Sure, buddy, but hey, maybe now we won’t have to get you porn for Christmas,” Pidge said cheerfully.

Keith’s ears burned a bit. “ _Pidge_!”

Hunk coughed. “Anyway, Mr. Shirogane, did you have anything specific in mind?”

“Not really,” Shiro admitted, hands in pockets. “Something independent. A cat, maybe,” he demurred, looking sidelong at Keith.

Hunk nodded as Keith glared. “Well you can take a look at our adoption wall for now and take some of the forms home with you to fill out.” He handed Shiro a sheaf of papers in an envelope. “We’ve got a questionnaire to help you figure out what kind of animal buddy is best for you.”

“Sure,” Shiro said easily, tucking the envelope away in his coat. “Is it just the three of you working here?”

“Yeah, pretty much, and Lance,” Hunk said. “He’s not on-shift today, though, so it’s technically just me and Keith for today.”

“He did seem to be in a hurry,” Shiro mused.

Keith wasn’t sure why Shiro was insisting on emphasizing the panicked minute he spent in his bed wondering what he was supposed to do with a faceful of warm, firm chest.

The soft click of Pidge’s phone camera made them all turn. She held up two fingers in a peace sign. “For posterity.”

Shiro chuckled. “You’re all pretty close, aren’t you?”

Pidge grinned. “Yep! We can tell you all about this one time Lance got Keith smashed and convinced him to do the hula in someone’s bra.”

“Pidge!” Keith yelped, jabbing her side with an elbow.  

“I’d love to see pictures,” Shiro said, a wicked curve to his mouth.

“Lance has a 5-second shaky video- and he doesn’t know I copied it off his PC,” Pidge promised.

“He said he deleted that.” Keith made a mental note to let Lance know how little he appreciated being lied to. And how much he could still benchpress.

“Like Lance’d delete evidence of how much of a dork you are,” Pidge scoffed.

“Ex-boyfriend?” Shiro asked curiously.

“No way,” Pidge said as Keith went green at the very idea.

“Lance is straight, besides,” Hunk said helpfully.

“And he didn’t know Keith wasn’t,” Pidge added, “which made his territorial pissing-war with him in highschool over that one girl extra hilarious.”

“What girl?” Keith asked, not recalling being close to any in particular.

Pidge's grin widened. “Exactly.”

Shiro made small talk for the rest of the morning, effortlessly charming both Hunk and Pidge with his easygoing smiles and dry, self-deprecating wit.

“I like him,” Pidge declared, once Shiro had excused himself. Keith was still amazed that he’d gone.

“You should totally have gotten his number- get a date,” Pidge commented as she jammed her hat back on.

She wouldn’t be saying that if she knew, Keith thought darkly. Still, the whole baffling episode aside, Keith wasn’t sure what Shiro’s goal had been. He’d certainly flirted, but nothing quite so brazen as when it had been just them. He'd kept his hands to himself, for one thing. But he couldn't quite understand what was his angle now. What would talking to his friends accomplish?

But the fact of the matter was that he was gone. And he couldn’t feel disappointed by that.

He couldn’t.

=

All half-hopeful thoughts that he might’ve ridden himself of his new shadow, however, disappeared when he exited the shelter to catch the bus to his other job.

Shiro reappeared when he got off the bus, hair slightly tousled, almost as if he were walking him to the bar, ducking into the little alley that led to the backdoor.

Keith didn’t slam the door in his face, not that it would’ve done any good- but he didn’t hold it open, either.

He took his uniform out of his bag, pushing the rest under one of the benches.

“Nice place,” Shiro observed, looking at the cracked corners of the room and the detritus of other hurried employees scattered on the vinyl flooring.

“You’re pretty fancy for someone who lives in the place of the damned,” Keith snorted as he slipped the cheap white dress shirt on. He strung the pre-knotted tie around his neck, careful to tuck it under the collar, and buttoned the black silk vest with the bar logo into place, easily better quality than the rest of his wardrobe.

The bar itself, _Crystal Venom_ , wasn’t any place Keith would frequent on his own dime. It was smack-dab in downtown and trendy with prices to match. They were meticulous about maintaining a certain kind of image. Which was a lot of why they were willing to overlook Keith’s other shortcomings for his face. His bartending skills weren’t exactly bad, either.

Keith gathered his hair, pulling it harshly away from his face so he could wrap a black ribbon around it.

“Here, let me,” Shiro said, prompting a startled jump from Keith. He’d nearly forgotten he was there, switched to autopilot.

Large hands carded through Keith’s hair quickly, before pulling his hair into a neat, but comfortable ponytail.

Keith looked at the mirror, watching Shiro run his fingers briefly through the tuft of hair. It was a better job than he would’ve done on his own, especially when pressed for time.

“This looks good on you. Makes me want to take it off,” Shiro said lowly, smoothing his hands over Keith’s shoulders.

“Don’t think that puts you in my good books,” Keith grumbled, jerking away and tying the black apron around his lean hips and exiting to the bar proper.

The customer-facing side of the establishment might as well be a different planet. The walls and floor were done in black marble and mirrors, white lounges and glass tables, all of which reflected the eponymous crystals suspended and anchored to give mood lighting.

Most of the current shift of serving staff were already on the floor, serving the VIP who got in early. Keith still had to set the bar check to do- make sure everything was stocked like it had been last night and that all the glasses and counters were clean.

“What do you do here?” Shiro asked.

Keith shrugged. “I mix drinks. Other people serve them.”

Shiro sat on one of the polished barstools, his clothes shifting, as he turned to face Keith, into a thin charcoal cotton shirt that stretched coyly over his muscled chest. A black leather jacket emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and matched the new low boots his tight jeans were tucked into. He combed his fingers through his hair, the white streak tumbling back rakishly.

Keith stared. Shiro clearly wanted him to look and he refused to feel guilty so long as he stayed on that side of the bar. “Dropping the professor look?”

“Do you like this one better?” Shiro asked, leaning on the counter.

“You look like you’re here to eat someone.”

“Dinner looks great,” Shiro smiled.

Keith leaned back, shaking his head and trying his best to not be charmed by a pretty face. This was ridiculous. Because Shiro was gorgeous but he was a demon. He could change how he looked at any time. He wondered how much of the Shiro he was seeing was even real. Probably none.

And it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen his fair share of beautiful or glamorous people. The clientele at Crystal Venom were either rich because of it or rich enough to buy it.

Like that one woman who had just entered, among the first wave of people let past the velvet rope.

Keith had never seen her before but she had tawny dark skin and masses of frosted white hair pinned into an elegant chignon. Dressed in a white backless top, slacks, and heels, she looked like a powerful businesswoman here for some downtime. Her face, or at least what Keith could see of it, was stunning.

She was with a man in a flashy blue suit who could really benefit from more of her fashion sense. He was older, too, with unusual, gingery hair that brushed his shoulders. Keith could’ve given him a few pointers on how to work with the length.

Shiro shifted uneasily, eyes following the woman, too. He frowned and flickered briefly, like he’d switched channels.

“You know her?” Keith asked as he set the glass down.

“No. Not personally,” Shiro clarified. “I know _of_ her.”

“She’s famous?” Keith craned his neck a bit to get a better look, more out of curiosity than any real interest in showbusiness.

“After a fashion.” Shiro turned back to Keith and touched his wrist, instantly regaining his attention. “But I’m more interested in you.”  

Keith pulled away. “And I’m interested in why you’re interested.”

Because he couldn’t think of anything he had on his conscience that’d bring a demon to his lap.

“You’re very pretty. And clearly pent-up. Why shouldn’t I be interested in you?” Shiro raised his brows.

“So you’re after me because I’m ‘pent-up’? I can’t be the only virgin in the city,” Keith said skeptically. Jokes aside, he hadn’t actually thought it was relevant.

It wasn’t like he’d set out planning to just never have sex, either. It was just that supporting himself had always come first- and he’d never gotten close enough to anyone to feel like trying. Looking at the messy relationships other people had-- and the way bar-goers sought sex like it was their next drug hit- had made him disinclined to accept the tawdry offers he occasionally got even as a barista. Plus. this wasn’t exactly a gay bar.

He’d had a few passing thoughts, maybe, but it had never seemed worth the potential troubles. He had enough on his plate.

“And?”

“And none of them are you,” Shiro said, walking through the bar so he was standing next to Keith, one arm fencing him into a corner of the counter. “That's dangerous.”

“Excuse you, being a virgin is neither communicable nor terminal,” Keith informed him tartly.

Shiro shrugged, steering the conversation back. “Aren’t you curious? I might not be human but I can give you everything you want, Keith. More that you or anyone can think of.”

Keith shivered, his interest warring with alarm. This was the creature that had been in his bed, that he’d woken to, a voice like warm, syrupy sin. Maybe Keith had never been interested in anyone he’d ever met, but he was definitely interested in Shiro.

But that was what demons did, wasn’t it? Entice? Tempt with a honeyed tongue.

“Keith, you’re here! Almost didn’t see you back there. Business is picking up, we just got a table of fussers who need booze to be tolerable,” Suki greeted, rapping on the counter gently.

“Think you can whip up a mojito and a french gimlet for table nine and a yellow bird for table three?”

“Got it,” he acknowledged, moving Shiro out of the way so he could get to the liquor.

Suki saluted and went to get orders from another table.  

She hadn’t made any comments about Shiro- so whatever he’d done, it hadn’t made him visible to anyone else.

“I really need to take you to a nice, private bed,” Shiro mused wryly. “Somewhere we won’t be interrupted.”

Keith glanced at him as he took out white rum and soda water for the mojito, his hands deft with practice and the familiar rhythm settling his racing heart. “You tried that last night. Didn’t work out.”

Shiro inclined his head, conceding the point. “I like a long game.” He looked a lot tenser than he’d been when he’d been pressed up against Keith on the bar.

“Somehow I don’t think you have that kind of time,” Keith observed.

And for the first time, Shiro seemed-- startled.

“...Well, I _am_ hungry,” he said lightly. “But I think I can wait for you.” He leaned in, ducking to reach Keith’s ear, one hand on the inside rim of the bar counter.

“See you at home, Keith.”

Then, he disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :') It was great hearing from you all. Let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

Home. Like it was  _his_ , too, somehow. Like he lived in Keith’s shitty matchbox apartment.

Really, in some ways, it was the most brazen of all the things Shiro had said so far.

But Keith didn’t see Shiro the rest of the night. It was busy enough that it wasn’t hard to get lost in the work. But every moment or two, he’d pause, in the middle of pouring a drink or arranging mint leaves, and remember.

The way Shiro’s eyes glowed in the dim lighting, or the heat of his mouth. The feel of his hand on his skin.

It was distracting. And it made his absence all the more acute, even amidst filling orders, a  lingering thought at the back of his mind. His skin prickled with the idea of finding Shiro back in the apartment, though he couldn’t say if it was bad or good.

He took up people-watching to fill the idle moments, but he couldn’t seem to spot the ginger in a blue suit from earlier, much less his date. Maybe it was a blind date and she’d slipped out after telling him she was in the powder room.

Little dramas like that happened a lot more often than Keith had thought was possible before working here.

By the time he got home, he was keyed up enough that he half-expected something to jump out at him. But his apartment was empty. A quick look around confirmed that.  

He took a hot shower- because he needed to relax and hadn’t felt safe doing it that morning, he told himself.

But twenty luxuriously long minutes later, Keith padded back out in a towel and his underwear, the fabric spotted with damp, and there was still no sign of him. No unexpected visitors.

Just like it was every night.

Keith let out a slow breath, refusing to acknowledge the disappointment. This was good, he reminded himself. He should take advantage of the peace and quiet to sleep. Working two shifts in one day wasn’t exactly a picnic, even on a full night’s rest. He sat on the bed, smoothing the rumpled sheets a bit and picking up his pillows and blanket, remnants of the surreal wake-up call from earlier.

Shiro had been hungry, Keith thought suddenly. It would only make sense that he’d take his meal _elsewhere,_ since Keith wasn’t about to give it to him. He’d probably gone home with some poor girl who’d taken one look at his killer smile and couldn’t take her clothes off fast enough. Maybe even that woman with the silvery hair.

A pang of annoyance ran through him at the thought. He chastised that feeling. If the demon was out snacking on beautiful women, then that was their problem and nothing to be jealous of. They could have their dangerous one night stands. Hopefully one night stands that didn’t end in someone dying.

He groaned. It wasn’t his business, but he didn’t want to get anyone else _really_ hurt, either. Not that he knew where the demon was or if he was even doing what he thought he was doing.

It was a headache he was helpless to do anything about. His least favorite kind.

He laid himself flat on the bed, starfishing on the cool sheets.

As long as Shiro wasn’t here, though… Keith licked his lips slowly, considering.

Fuck, why not? He deserved a little downtime after the mess today was, didn’t he?

He slipped his hand down to his boxers, flicking the button at the front open with his free hand so he could slip his cock free.

He felt along its length, measuring the inches with his fingertips. Long tirades from Lance on the subject informed him that he was slightly above average, girth fitting neatly in the circumference that spanned between his forefinger and thumb. Nothing challenging, but enough to enjoy himself with. He dragged gently at the sensitive skin and reached for the lube tucked between the mattress and the wall, squirting some of the cold gel on his palm.

Twisting it between his fingers he thought about the star of tonight’s fantasy.

He made a brief attempt to marshal his thoughts and go through his options- the star football player from a game he’d watched, or the police officer who’d helped him once when he was younger.

But sandy hair turned dark and their faces changed subtly until he had no choice but to admit there _wasn’t_ a choice for tonight.

He bit his lip, told himself it was all in his head, that it didn’t mean anything, and let himself imagine Shiro in his bed like he’d been last night.

He’d woken up confused. The bed had dipped, arranging itself differently from what Keith was used to. He’d opened his eyes and seen nothing but perfect, tanned skin, the most gorgeous man he’d ever seen, wearing nothing but a smile.

But this time, safe in the darkness behind his eyelids, he wouldn’t push him away.

He’d curl his fingers around the cool bone-smoothness of the horns, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss, licking into that mouth that tasted like fire. Shiro’s hands would be on his bare sleep-flushed skin and he’d let him push his thighs up and apart, let him squeeze them as he pressed his naked cock against Keith’s own.

It was easy to imagine. Shiro’s dick had been tucked against his thigh while Keith had torn at the sheets in a panic. _Big_. A monster of a cock, definitely at least eight inches, fat and slightly thicker at the base and subtly veined, capped with a ridged head.

Keith exhaled softly as he squeezed his own cock, imagining Shiro’s hand on it- larger; with infinite experience. He'd murmur something filthy in his ear,  all smooth, low tones and grinding down with his hips as his thumb teased along the side of Keith’s shaft.

Keith reached down to cup his balls with his other hand through his boxers, stroking gently over the sensitive sac. Shiro’s weight would crush him gently into the bed, and his mouth would be on Keith’s neck, soft and hot, dragging up for a kiss.

He touched his lips feverishly, a ghost of what a kiss might be like. His hand pumped along his shaft, fisting at the base and squeezing as he pulled up, but it wasn’t quite enough.

He shoved his boxers down impatiently. It was rare that he ever felt a need to play with his ass, but just tonight, he wanted a little more. He pressed a finger around the rim of tight muscle, shivering. He didn’t push in, but he teased at the sensitive skin around it, thinking about Shiro’s porn star cock and how it’d feel filling him up. It was scary. More than a little thrilling for the same shameful reason. So thick that he could almost taste it at the back of his throat. Shiro, hands on Keith’s hips, fucking him into the bed so hard that he was flattened on it, sweat on his skin and desperately working himself into Keith’s body like he wasn’t already buried deep, over and over.

Keith muffled a soft cry and a startled jerk as he came, cum dribbling over his fingers.

For a moment, he lay there, panting at the ceiling, innervated and lax at once. But his stomach felt twisted even as his limbs relaxed.

God, it was good to get it out. But shame ate away at him; made him feel like a liar. In the end, he was just as pathetic as any other of the losers he’d mentioned, jerking himself off to a fantasy of a demon. But if there was one thing he had, it was willpower.

He cleaned himself up, wadding a bunch of used tissues together to put in the garbage tomorrow. He pulled his underwear back into place with a soft snap and turned on his side.

Shiro didn't come back. But Keith didn’t sleep well that night.

He had almost decided he'd dreamed him up after all when he walked into work the next day, only to be greeted by Lance's smarmy, grinning face.

“So Keith,” he drawled. “I heard you finally got a date! And a hot one, too!”

“It wasn't, he just stayed over a night.”

Something in his voice must've tipped Lance off.

“Oh, shit, really, he ran out already?” He exclaimed, then seemed to realize this might make Keith feel worse. He slapped Keith's back. “Well, don't let it get you down. He was probably some married closet douche, anyway. Plenty of other fish, I mean, it's not like you're totally hopeless with the right fixing up. And when you, you know, don’t talk.”

“It wasn't a date, so I'm not down,” Keith insisted, stomping to the backroom. Lance had already seen to the feeding and checks, so there wasn't much left for Keith to do but clean out the pens and check on the new kittens, who'd begun mewling incessantly when they woke up.

Keith peered in at them and decided they could do with a little grooming. He scooped the first one up carefully, a muddy orange tabby, she was still too light, even for a kitten. Thankfully, nothing time and proper care wouldn't fix. He laid a towel on his lap and picked up a brush. The kitten was not amused, flexing onto her back and grabbing one of Keith’s fingers, sharp little teeth gnawing on it.

“Hey, not food,” Keith admonished softly, pulling his hand away. The fur at the kitten’s belly was looking a bit matted, so Keith made sure to go over it slowly. It was soothing work, stroking the brushed fur down, getting her used to human hands and petting. Once her scraggly fur looked decently fluffy again, put her back in the box with her siblings and picked up the next. 

Grooming the kittens helped calm him down enough to face Lance's well-meaning comments again. 

When he got back to the front, Lance was slumped over the desk. “So, you feeling better?” he asked, fiddling with something on his phone. Probably a game or facebook. 

“Maybe if you did more paperwork, Hunk wouldn’t need to do your backlog for you,” Keith scoffed, walking to his desk.

“Okay, bitch mode still on, got it,” Lance said, rolling his eyes. “For your information, I’m updating our instagram account.”

“We don’t have an instagram account.”

“We do now,” Lance said and pointed his phone at Keith. “Cheese!”

“Wha--”

Lance snapped the picture. “Let’s see, caption: 'Answers to Keith. No adoption fee. Bites but trainable. Allergic to fun.' How’s that sound?”

Keith blinked once, then shot to his feet, lunging for Lance. “Lance, no!”

“Aw, come on, maybe you’ll get some takers, win-win!” Lance cooed, laughing.

Keith tried to grab his phone. Lance held it out of reach. Not for the first time, Keith swore there was something intrinsically unfair with a world that made Lance McClain taller than he was.

“ _Lance_! Delete it, right now!”

“Annnnd uploaded! Too late, can’t take it back, the internet has it now!”

Keith tackled him into his chair. It rolled back a few inches against the wall, slamming them against it painfully. They bounced off and rolled on the floor, managing to avoid a second concussion on the desk.

“Oof! Hey! Keith, I know I’m irresistible, man, but I’m not into guys-- or you--”

“Piss off, McClain!” Keith gasped indignantly, shoving at him so he could sit up. “And _gross_.”

“Should I come back later?” A familiar voice asked casually.

Keith was under Lance, sprawled on the floor beneath his desk .

Looking up, he could see Shiro looking concerned as he peered down at them both.  

Keith reddened and pulled back, standing.

“Don’t worry about me, just a philosophical disagreement with ‘bony with a bad attitude’ here. What can we help you with?” Lance said, climbing back into his seat.

“I’m really just here to see Keith,” Shiro admitted.

“Oh? _Oh_. It’s him!” Lance pointed. A pause. “Wow, you are so out of his league. Nice pull, Keith!” He flashed him a thumbs up.

Keith glared at him, then looked back at Shiro. He looked unexpectedly tired, leaning against the counter instead of standing. His clothes were just as crisp, but he looked like he was favoring his right side. Like he had a stitch from running.

“I wanted to apologize about last night. I had some business that ran a little longer than I thought it would.”

“Not like I waited up,” Keith lied. Technically, Shiro had done just what he’d asked for and left him alone, but saying so now would just make Lance ask questions he couldn’t answer.

“What kind of ‘business’?”

Shiro shrugged. “This and that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Keith scowled, unsure why Shiro’s flippant answer annoyed him so much.

The door opened, interrupting the conversation and admitting another man into the shelter.

Tall and lean, the stranger was dressed in an aviator jacket over a t-shirt with a deep scoop. Goggles that matched his jacket and boots were slung back over short, pale hair. The rough cut of the hair and the stubble that dusted his chin gave him an unkempt look that made it all the stranger when he walked up to Shiro’s clean-cut figure and leaned on him.

“So this is where you ran off to.” He looked around the tiny office. “Not your usual style, is it?”

Shiro frowned. “Rolo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the feedback! I got sick and swamped again, so I'm gonna go through the comments now. :'D 
> 
> Let me know what you think about this chapter! I asked someone beta-read a certain part. *cough*


	4. Chapter 4

Keith frowned, looking between Shiro and the newcomer. If Shiro had looked out of place, Rolo looked more so, with his unkempt prostitute pilot look. Shiro supposed eventually you learned to love some centuries more than the others. 

“What are you doing here?” Shiro asked Rolo pointedly. Because last he checked, he wasn’t assigned here. Rolo’s body was a study in casual indifference, as it always was, revealing little in the tilt of his mouth. 

“Nothing much, just wanted to catch up. See what you were up to. Got a mutual friend of ours all huffy when you didn’t show up last night,” Rolo said, shrugging.

“I was-- busy,” Shiro said, brow furrowing slightly. 

“Yeah, heard about that,” Rolo said casually. He looked at Lance, then at Keith, hooded eyes assessing. “Well now, aren’t you pretty?” 

Keith had never taken compliments graciously- less so from suspicious interlopers. He folded his arms, glaring back. “This is an animal shelter. If you don’t have any business here, you can see yourself out.” 

Rolo smiled, unhurried. “Of course, understandable, I’ll be right out of your hair. I was just here to pick up my friend here, but I can see why he’s having a little trouble pulling himself away.” 

“That’s enough.” Shiro took Rolo by the arm. “Let’s talk outside.” 

“Easy there, tiger, I haven’t even gotten his name,” Rolo drawled, but he let Shiro drag him away from the counter. He winked at Keith as they left, earning himself another little frown from Shiro. 

Outside, for demons, wasn’t exactly the same as it was for humans, but for appearance’s sake, Shiro dragged Rolo out of the shelter building, turning them into the empty lot nearby, nothing but grass and dirt and bits of litter from passersby. 

He stepped into an alternate frequency, a mezzanine of dimensions, winking out of the earthly plane and pulling Rolo along with him. They emerged in an inverse noon, the sky turned into a hungry darkness; grass greens into bright, fluorescent pinks. This particular plane of existence was little used and empty, but handy for the occasional private discussion. 

“So that’s him?” Rolo asked, glancing towards the building they’d left, now a ghostly afterimage in white.

“You know it is,” Shiro said briefly. He unfurled his dark, leathery wings, stretching the breadth of his impressive wingspan out behind him.

Rolo wasn’t impressed by the subtle display. “I didn’t know what to expect, but he’s got a kind of glimmer. He even looks a bit like the last one.” 

“It’s hereditary, of course he’d look like the last one.” Shiro sighed. “Why are you here, Rolo? Don’t you have your own tasks?” 

“Well my target’s dead, as it turns out,” Rolo said. “She was sensitive. Got possessed and walked off a pier. Left behind a little boy, so some of the other guys took care of it.” 

“One more bloodline down, then.” It was a little sad, really, how few there were left.

Rolo shrugged. “Makes you wonder what they’re going to do when they run out. Maybe all this will finally end.” 

“They’ll just make new ones,” Shiro said flatly, running a hand through his hair. “Did Sendak actually want my report or were you just being cheeky?’ 

Rolo shook his head, tugging at the cuffs of his jacket idly. “Not at all. He did send me to go check in on you.”

It figured. Shiro frowned. “Isn’t he supposed to be searching, too?” 

“That’s the only reason why he hasn’t come in person to see you slacking off yet,” Rolo said, folding his arms, dark, lazy eyes staring Shiro down, now. “You found the target, just what are you waiting for?” 

“It’s not that easy,” Shiro said, looking away. 

“I bet he _tumbles_ easy,” Rolo drawled, a bit of his country drawl showing. “You’ve got the track record of a champ, so what’s really holding you back?” 

“Not your business, Rolo,” Shiro warned. “They won’t have him, you can take my word for that.” 

“You know what they say about demons and promises,” Rolo scoffed. “You take any longer and I might just finish him up for you. He looks like a screamer,” he mused, leaning back, hands in pockets. “The kind that cries into the pillow, you know?” 

Shiro’s arm shot out violently. Rolo leaped back, like he’d expected it. 

“Look at you, Champ, you’re right on the edge of ruining us all,” he said, slow, low, and contemptuous. “All for some pretty little snatch? You haven’t even fucked him yet. Hell, you can go back and fuck him as much as you like if you want it that bad- he should last a few nights longer than most. But don’t forget what we’re doing’s more important than a human. Any human.”

He pulled back, shaking is head. “Look, I feel you. You’ve got something interesting. Maybe you feel a little like you still got some humanity in your shriveled little heart. But this is too important for playing games. You want to keep your little toy, fuck him already,” Rolo said bluntly. “I’m not seeing the problem here. Aren’t you hungry? You look like you could eat.” 

“I’m working on it,” Shiro said stiffly.

“You better work faster. Rumor is, they’re here, too,” Rolo warned. 

Shiro gripped his side, feeling the wound throb. “I know.” After all, they’d been chasing him all last night. 

There was very little that could get in a demon’s way quite like angels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm... having AO3 issues, so hopefully the formatting and tagging is alright. :') And apologies for formatting bloops, been a while since I did html. :') 
> 
> A short interlude from Shiro's POV.


	5. Chapter 5

“Damn, am I a genius or what? That instagram worked _way_ better than I thought,” Lance preened, pleased with himself.

“What?” Keith said, still a little unsure what had just happened. He stared at the door long moments after their guests had left.

“The instagram,” Lance said slowly, waving his phone a bit. “One post, boom, two hot dudes.”

“That’s-- two different things!” Keith spluttered a bit.

“Hey, I won’t judge, you wanna be freaky and it’s all consensual, go for it. You do you,” he said, clapping Keith’s shoulder.

“No, I mean that doesn’t make sense, it’s not like they even saw your instagram.” He was pretty sure someone so friendly with Shiro could only be another demon. Demons didn’t have instagrams. Probably. Did they have internet in hell? Phone plans?

“It does _too_ make sense. I posted, they appeared. One plus one equals two.”

“You-- ugh, I don’t know why I bother, sometimes.” Keith groaned, knowing he’d gotten drawn into another of Lance’s no-win arguments again.

“See if I help you find a date again, then,” Lance scoffed.

“From you, help is a threat,” Keith retorted. He went to the window to see where Shiro and Rolo went, but they weren’t in sight. Figured.

He frowned at the sky. “Does it seem a little dark for 2 PM, for you?”

“Oh, yeah, they were talking about how there’s some kind of weather thing? There’s been localized hail storms and stuff, even out in the desert. We’ve got rain on the forecast for tonight, too. Maybe if it’s cold enough we’ll get snow early, this year.”

Keith went back to his desk, feeling a bit like dark clouds were hanging over his head, too.

It was probably weird to miss a stalker. It definitely was when they weren’t even human.

He sighed and went back to work. If they were going to have rain, he needed to let the dogs out so they could get their exercise in.

By five in the afternoon, the weather had started to take a turn for the worse, the wind picking up and blowing leaves and the occasional flyer down the streets. Keith frowned at it.

“You have a bar shift tonight or something?” Lance asked, noticing his glower.

“No, just-- I was going to do groceries. Can’t exactly do that in the rain.” The paper bags would probably melt if it rained too hard.

“If you go now, you might make it,” Lance offered optimistically.

“Yeah, I guess I’ll make a run for it,” Keith agreed reluctantly. He’d put the groceries off for too long and he couldn’t afford to eat out too often. He grabbed his jacket and shrugged it on.

“See you tomorrow. And if you see someone hot, do everything I’d do,” Lance advised.

“That’ll just get me knifed in an alley somewhere.”

“Never happens to _me_. I’m too adorable to knife.’

Keith shook his head, snorting. Lance’s personality had its high and low points, and he counted him a friend-- mostly. But it would still be good to get away from him for a while.

He pulled the hood of his red jacket up, tucking his hands in the soft fleece lining the pockets, and headed out.

He was lucky- the bus pulled up just as he got there and the weather continued to hold up until he got to the small grocery that was built into the basement of a building near one of the stops.

He hoped it continued to hold until he got back out, otherwise these were going to be some very soggy cup noodles.

He zipped around the grocery so he could finish faster. With just a basket under his arm and a list in his head, it didn’t take too long. He was rewarded with the sight of dry pavement as he got out of the store.

But the little boost of euphoria didn’t last long. The first fat drop of rain splashed on his nose as he made his way back to the bus stop.

Pretty soon, it was joined by others, pattering down and painting the concrete dark. The rushing sound of the rain catching up behind him prompted him into a run.

Keith ran for the nearest awning, right in front of an unlit shop. The rain crashed over it like a thousand tiny waves. Someone had graffitied some symbols onto the lower left of the worn brick facade, but the glass window front was clean. He squeezed himself into a corner, away from the wind and clutched his groceries with grim resignation. So much for getting home before the storm hit. If there wasn’t a break in the weather soon, he’d just have to risk getting wet over not getting home.

“There you are,” a voice said lowly, relieved. Shiro appeared, stepping onto the pavement like he’d just disembarked from a taxi. He opened a black umbrella, shielding them both from the precipitation. The handle was carved to end in a wolf's head, the spines of the spokes sharpened like iron pokers.

“How’d you know I was here?” Keith asked, a bit dumbfounded, and maybe just a tiny bit paranoid- did he have some kind of supernatural tracker on him? A tag? Hand print?

“Asked Lance. He’s pretty chatty.”

Keith relaxed slightly. That he was. He suspected he wouldn’t like what else Lance had been chatty about, though.

“Did ‘Rolo’ ditch you? Didn't think I'd see you again today.” His eyes flicked over Shiro's clothes, a turtleneck under a gray coat, now, and at the careful way he guarded his side.

“Rolo just wanted a quick chat.”

“So is _he_ an incubus too or some other flavor of demon?”

The sensual line of Shiro’s mouth curled. “No, he's like me. I wouldn't go off with him if I were you. You might find him… hard to deal with.”

“Comforting. Is he going to start turning up at work tomorrow, too?”

Shiro shook his head once, slow, eyes dark. He seemed closer than he had been before. “No, you shouldn't see any others.”

Keith hesitated. “Are you… did you stake a claim, or something? Or is it a rule? Only one demon per mortal?”

“You could say that,” Shiro smiled. “I don’t share too well.” He reached for Keith, wiping a bead of rain from his forehead, thumb sweeping back too-long, messy strands of dark hair.

In the chilly air and the sweet musk of earthy rain, he smelled like an open fire, a hint of sulfur and smoke.

It was funny, how easy it was to forget what Shiro was, sometimes, only to be unable to deny it.

“So do I get a refund if I file a return?” Keith said, eyes averted and stepping back. His shoulderblades pressed against the window, flattening.

“What are you so afraid of?” Shiro asked, taking advantage of his full hands to follow him back. This close, he filled Keith’s world; electrified him. “Just let me take care of it.” He dipped his head down, tilting Keith’s chin up and kissed him.

His first thought was warmth- the press of Shiro’s lips felt like hot chocolate, slipping into his mouth, molten and decadent.

Then, he felt panic bubble up- only to be soothed away abruptly. Shiro’s tongue nudged between his lips, coaxing. He tasted sweet. Nothing like what he’d imagined.

Slowly, Keith felt his arms loosen around the groceries, the bags slipping down until they fell, his knees buckling soon after. He was warm. Shiro was warm. He was on fire. No, he wanted-- he wanted to touch Shiro.

 _Be_ touched.

“Ah,” he gasped as Shiro caught him, lifting him up easily. Keith’s fingers dug into his sleeves, dragging himself weakly up.

“What’s happening?” Keith wondered aloud, voice a whisper, almost lost in the thrum of the rain.

“It’ll be okay,” Shiro shushed him, lips closing around his and tugging gently. He deepened the kiss and tugged Keith closer, cupping the dip of his spine so he was half-crushed to Shiro’s chest.

“I’ll take care of you,” he promised. “Just come with me.”

Go where? Keith thought. But even the idea of alarm came sluggishly to him. His mouth felt thick with nectar.

“A bed would be nice,” Shiro chuckled. “You might look a little strange naked on the street. Unless, of course, you wanted it that way?”

“No, I…” Why was that a problem? Keith frowned, knowing that there were important concepts linked to it, but unable to quite work up the alarm needed to make the connection.

Shiro slipped a hand under the back of Keith’s shirt, smoothing down underneath the seat of his pants. His thumb rubbed stroking circles on his skin. “Come with me. I’ll hold you up.”

Keith nodded vaguely, following Shiro’s lead down the street, leaning against his side heavily. He wanted to tuck his face into Shiro’s neck. Lick his throat. Rub against him like a cat in heat.

“Stop where you are, demon.” It was a cold voice. Feminine and vaguely British.

Keith glanced up. Under the rim of the umbrella, he could see the woman from the other night. She was wearing the same pantsuit, cutting her silhouette against the gray of the rainy pavement. Except her hair was now braided back from her aristocratic face and in her hand she was carrying a sword wreathed in white flame. From her back grew two tall shadows. Like wings.

“Here I thought you’d scuttled back to the Pit like a roach to a rock. Instead I find you infesting this plane, crawling upon our Vessel.”

Shiro cursed under his breath in a language Keith couldn’t decipher, even if he had enough wits to try. He turned, shielding Keith from view.

“Don’t try that with me, you filth, I can see him and you’re not taking him away.” She charged, swinging her sword down. “You may have escaped me last night, but you won’t do so again.”

Shiro dodged. He tried to take Keith with him, but Keith stumbled, falling out of his grasp. The woman was quick to scoop him up, leveling her flaming blade at the demon. “Take another step and I cut you where you stand. I’d do it anyway for what you did last night.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t go out on the field with a _cherub_. Or wasn’t there anyone else willing to put up with you, _Your Highness_?” Shiro said blandly, his features flickered, his eyes turning back to it’s slit-pupiled glow. He pulled something out from behind him, a greatsword taller than even he was. It was made of obsidian, a glossy glass-like edge ground to a killing sharpness on both sides.

“I found him first, he’s not yours.”

Keith, gripped in the woman’s preternaturally strong arm, was starting to wake from his stupor. He pulled away, panicked, staggering several paces out onto the wet street. It was raining, cold water dripping down the neck of his jacket, like needles stabbing him into awareness.

He looked at the winged woman. She was still holding the flaming rapier. Shiro had a greatsword hefted in one hand. They faced each other like sculptures, a beautiful, balanced tableaux.

Keith clutched his head, cold fingers stringing through matted hair.

“Keith,” Shiro warned, distracted. The woman took the opening, surging into motion, wings propelling her forward. The thrust was short and forceful, levering the blade under Shiro’s ribs. “ _Exsilium_!”

Shiro fell back in shock, the sabre embedded in his stomach. Like smoke, he unraveled, outward from the slice, vanishing into nothing. The sword clattered to the floor, ethereal flame burning even against the onslaught of the rain.

“Who are you?” Keith asked, frightened, as the woman picked up her sword with an elegant tsk and turned towards him. She seemed taller than Keith remembered. A great and terrible beauty.

“What... What did you do to him?”

“You may call me Allura. Seraphim of Heaven. Daughter of the King of Angels.” She picked up her sword, flicking it, as though to dislodge blood.

Of course. Where there were demons there were angels, too, a light to their shadow.

“As for the demon, he’s been banished. I would have done more, but time is short.”

Keith shook his head. He didn’t understand. His teeth were starting to chatter. “What-- why are you here?”

“For you, Keith. We need you to fight this war.”

“What war?” he bit back.

Allura tucked the sword away with an impatient gesture. It winked out of existence, but did nothing to make her any less threatening. “The war between Heaven and Hell. The battle is nigh and our need is great. Surely you’ve noticed that the world, your plane, has started to descend into chaos? Natural disasters that happen without explanation. Strange weather. Plagues that sweep entire countries.”

Keith’s head throbbed. “Y-yeah, but that always happens. They’re…” the shift of plates and climate change. The mutation of obscure viruses. Unexplainable.

Acts of God.

“They’re omens. Heralds of the coming cycle of war. And my father will win, as was ordained, but first, he needs you, Keith.”

“Me?” Keith asked, flabbergasted. He didn’t even believe in angels or demons until two days ago.

Allura’s tone gentled, though it barely softened her features. “Yes. Your bloodline is sacred and you’ve remained pure. There are precious few of you left who meet that criteria and both are necessary to host the King.”

“Host.. the King?”

“For the Battle, each side must fight on this plane. For this, they will need a Vessel,” Allura explained, her eyes, mesmerizing in its color, were serious.

“You are that Vessel, Keith. Your body will make our victory possible.”

“That’s crazy. How can I be pure enough for you- I don’t even go to Church! I’ve--” he swallowed. “I’ve done all kinds of bad things. I’m gay- isn’t that a no go for you guys?”

Allura shook her head. “Dogma is different from doctrine. If your mother had lived, she would have explained it, as would have been her duty. But your body is untouched, Keith, and your soul is pure. The Grace in you will be able to withstand my Father’s Holiness.”

“I can’t do it. I won’t.”

“You must,” Allura entreated, touching Keith’s brow. Her hand was cool. Like mint. “Or your world will be overrun by evil. By demons who will kill countless millions as the earth is razed to the ground. It is a hard choice, but a fair price. You must say yes.”

Keith pulled back.

“Your friends, anyone you love, they will die when the first wave of souleaters come. Your incubus may have charmed you, but the rest of Hell isn’t nearly so pleasant,” she said grimly. “They will possess millions, commit unmentionable depravities, and slaughter their hosts and everyone they see. Those that survive will be taken by sickness and famine. Monsters will roam where your cities stand.”

“Why should I believe you? How do I know you’re really an angel?”

Allura grabbed his shoulder impatiently. Keith yelled, feeling the weight of it burn into his skin like icy talons. Her eyes had turned into windows of light. Her voice deeper, echoing with a cacophony. The tall shadows at her back split into three, six wings in all. “I speak for the Host, army of Heaven, and for my Father, who rules it. I do not lie, Keith Kogane. I banished the demon with nothing but Our word; the word of my Father.”

Keith fell back, blinded. For a long minute he could see nothing but stark white light and splotches of darkness.

When he got his vision back, Allura had dimmed. “You may have time. A day, to come to terms. But no longer. We fear the Enemy has already found their Vessel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! ♡


	6. Chapter 6

The room was built from quartz, hewn from the largest, purest crystal that could have been found, sculpted by a people now lost to memory. The light filtered through its translucent walls, scintillating on carved edges before angling towards a single point: a smooth gold disk that formed a halo around an enormous golden lion, settled on its haunches and proud head lifted. 

Allura walked briskly up towards the statue, wings rustling as they folded back. “Father,” she said, kneeling briefly. “We’ve found the vessel.”

Her father’s voice filtered through the room, muffled, beyond mortal ears. That worried her-- he was still so weak- their victory in the last cycle had been far too narrow, leaving her father weakened, his Grace a pale glow of what it once was. She touched the warmed metal surface of the lion- a golden sarcophagus, containing his incorporeal form as he rested. 

She listened. “Yes. I… we will bring him here, to meet you.” It would only be right, before the battle began. 

“Rest, please,” she implored. Very few things could destroy an archangel, but as weak as he was, Zarkon may very well do it, this time. 

But abandoning the fight was not an option. “You know I’d do this for you if I had but the strength,” she said softly. She, like many others, tired of the cycle, tired of fighting ceaselessly. But the balance had to be preserved and that was their duty, the purpose of their creation, a ceaseless machination that tethered them to the roles they played. 

Sometimes, she envied demons. For all that they were doomed to the same fate, they roamed freely, eternally struggling against the tug of forgotten strings. Her memories of such freedom were far and dim, so many lifetimes ago. 

Freedom was tempting. But if that was all she’d wanted, she wouldn’t have accepted her father’s Grace, all those centuries ago.

She felt her father slip into sleep and touched her hand to the lion’s face, stroking down a cheek, before she turned to leave. 

There was still work to be done. She needed to check in on Coran and the others, see if they had managed to salvage any of the other bloodlines that had been targeted or managed to slow Zarkon’s awakening.

As she slipped past the barrier that separated this pocket dimension from others, she turned her thoughts to the Vessel: Keith. His faith was far from ideal- doubtless if his mother hadn’t died… but that had been their failure- one in a long line of many battles lost. The lineage had dwindled in the last few generations, but the blood still showed strong in the subtly unnatural tint of his eyes and the shimmer of his aura. 

The army weakened, as her father did. As people grew isolated and arrogant, feeling themselves beholden to none, the darkness in their hearts grew, feeding the demons’ work. They’d lost far too many fights; too many candidates. But in spirit, if nothing else, Keith was ideal.

She hoped he made the right choice.

  
The Vessel must always be willing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short but necessary interlude (since we don't get to see much of the angel's side of things), next action-y chapter should be in next 1-3 days. :') ~~And yes, Allura really is this srs. In this verse, at least- living millenia according to an ordained duty can really kill your funny bone.~~


	7. Chapter 7

Keith wasn’t sure how he got himself back to his apartment. All he remembered was jumping at shadows and the soft creak of floorboards, half-expecting someone or something to come at him. He imagined blades as long as he was tall; swords with flame dancing along its edge.

And Shiro-- what had Shiro been doing? Why couldn’t he resist him, when he’d managed to nearly every other time? It was like magic; a spell that could subdue your will and seduce your being. There was nothing that he wouldn’t have allowed Shiro to do, just then. He could’ve told Keith to slit his throat and he would have done it-- gladly.

Keith’s fingers traced the pulse on his throat with uncertain fingers.

But now Shiro was gone. And despite everything he’d done and the confusion he’d left in his wake, Keith wondered what had happened to him. What did ‘banished’ mean for a demon? Nothing good, he’d bet, but probably not dead… right? Could demons die? Did it matter if Shiro had...?

There were too many questions. Not least of which was the one the angel now hung over his head. Help them-- or remain ignorant until he was devoured.

Angels were always the good guys. He was pretty sure that you were morally obligated to help them. But-- right now, they were a frightening unknown, far from the soft, doe-eyed depictions in paintings, Allura had been nothing less than a hardened warrior. If heaven had an army, she was its general.

Not a very good one, maybe. Shiro had found him first, after all.

Drop-dead gorgeous Shiro with his smooth charm and evasive maneuvers. Shiro had explained nothing and the angel- Allura- had explained too much. Not that she hadn’t made some sense. There was no reason for anything supernatural to suddenly come into his life unless there was some kind of catalyst. Being the big virginal weapon to a supernatural war fit the bill. He hoped he didn’t have to get on any altars before this was all over.

Keith choked on a snort, trying to keep it from evolving into a manic laugh. It was absurd.

Utterly ridiculous, and yet-- the math added up- Shiro had always been unusually friendly, frank, and unswerving. Keith had never been able to figure out what he'd wanted. If he had only wanted a meal, there was no reason to harangue Keith when there were so many available options. Something had made him stay. So all this time, he'd just had a job to do. Must've sucked to be stuck trying to get in Keith's pants.

The only thing that didn’t make sense was that if he’d wanted to do the supernatural equivalent of slashing the angels’ tires, there had been no reason for him to even pretend to be nice. But between angel and demon, Shiro had been… kinder.

Of course, that didn’t mean anything when you assumed a demon always had an ulterior motive.

He wondered what it said about him, that he was more upset about a liar instead of balancing the weight of the world. Disgusting, probably. It filled him with a heavy disappointment, edged with self-loathing. Some little part of him had fallen for the act, hook, line and sinker.

In the end, did he really have a choice? Had he ever? Shiro had been about to make it for him.

Thoughts floated in a syrupy fog in his head, puzzle pieces falling without quite making a complete picture

Keith bent his head to his knees and, exhausted beyond fear, fell into a fitful sleep with his phone clutched tightly in one hand, like a lifeline.

His alarm rang what felt like seconds later, signalling the start of what had previously been another mundane morning. The next day had dawned without him, clear and sunny from the outlines of his blinds on the shabby floor. No fire and brimstone, then; not today. It was funny how the world still turned even though they were on the brink of a supernatural apocalypse.

He looked down at his phone. A corner of its casing was dented, a long scratch up the back from when he’d left it unattended in the pens. It warmed his clammy hands as he turned it over to check the screen. He’d survived the night, but that was no guarantee of the next. Should he call someone? No, that sounded like a one-way trip to the nearest mental health clinic. He could always try staying with someone else for a while-- disappear like he had from the orphanage.

He could stay with Hunk’s big, warm family and suffer their good-natured clucking over how skinny he was as they gave him third helpings. The Holts had a spare room now that Matt had moved out to college and he could play games with Pidge on weekends. Lance would probably let him crash on his couch unless he had a new girlfriend-- and with his dubious luck, he’d probably struck out by now if he had.

But… there was no telling that ‘they’ couldn’t simply find him again. Neither side seemed to care much about tiny things like human lives. And if something happened to his friends or their families- he didn’t think he could live with himself if it was because of him.

Better not to risk it. Especially if they already knew about the shelter. He didn’t like the idea of the place being ground zero to a demonic showdown.

Jaw clenching, he texted Pidge to call in sick, though he wasn’t looking forward to the sardonic text back he would inevitably get. After another few hours of tired dozing with one of the kitchen knives in his free hand, he decided to go in for his bar job.

=

“You look like shit,” Suki said sympathetically as she eyed him.

“Didn’t get enough sleep,” Keith grunted, closing his locker and trying not to remember the last time he’d been here- just the other day, Shiro’s hands on his shoulders; tying the ribbon in his hair.

“Not the fun kind, either, looks like. Maybe you should call Jem to sub in for you?”

“I’m fine, could do this in my sleep,” Keith said, brushing it off and folding his cuffs.

“If you say so,” she said dubiously, putting a last dab of blood-red lipstick on and examining the result in a small mirror.

As luck would have it, it wasn’t an adventurous crowd tonight. They mostly asked for drinks he could've mixed in his sleep, topped off by a bunch of ‘straights’ and ‘neats’, broken by the occasional ‘on the rocks’. Stubbornness and steady hands went a long way with orders like that. So long as he didn’t drop anything breakable, he counted it a win. The work kept his hands busy, but his mind free to wander.

The conspicuously silent walk to work had helped clear his head a bit and now he found himself wondering what he was supposed to do-- and what would happen if he did agree with Allura. Was he supposed to yell at the sky and hope she heard him? Burn candles and bathe in holy water?

And what if he didn't? Would she just show up, like a white reaper, ready to read him his sentence?

Let the world burn or sign up for the advanced Joan of arc class. No matter how he thought about it, it just didn’t seem like there was any way for it to end happily.

Keith finished up a simple screwdriver, adding a wedge of orange and a sprig of curled peel. He set the drink down for someone to pick up, eyes casting out for one of the servers-- only to land on a lanky figure walking up to the bar.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Keith let slip in shock, stepping back.

Rolo, the demon who’d gone looking for Shiro. The one he’d told him to stay away from-- even though he’d gone with him for a little chat.

Rolo folded himself onto one of the bar stools, long legs curling around the stem and leaned his elbows on the counter. “Hey, sugar, fancy meeting you here.”

Keith frowned, then, he paused. If Rolo had found him, then... “Is Shiro with you?”

“‘Fraid this is a solo flight,” Rolo said glibly. “Your boy’s got a bit of a long walk from B-town. Thought I’d check in on you for him.”

“How long?” Keith asked, unrelenting.

“Depends on how fast he goes,” Rolo shrugged. “In the meantime, how about a blowjob, darling?”

Keith raised his brows a bit. “Irish or Amaretto?”

“Amaretto, I like them feisty.”

Keith sighed pointedly as he took out a shot glass and filled it partway with kahlua, carefully layering amaretto on top and finishing off with an over-generous amount of whipped cream, just to be petty.

“Order up,” he said blandly, sliding the shotglass out in front of him

Rolo didn’t put his arms behind him, as tradition would require, but he did settle long-fingered hands casually on the counter, keeping them in place. “Well, well, looks like someone got a little eager.” He smirked at the small stippled mountain of cream and bent his head, licking at the cream with a broad swipe of his tongue, cleaning off the excess in slow, sloppy darts. His eyes glanced up at Keith, sly and assessing, the pink tip darting around to lick cream from the corners of his generous mouth.

Keith folded his arms, shifting back. “I’ve seen it all before,” he told Rolo. “And better.” Not that it was a bad performance, but the shine tended to wear off a bit from exposure. 

The demon laughed and took the glass between his teeth, tipping his head back to drain it. “It was worth a shot. But I can see you’ve only got one guy on your mind.”

“That’s _not_ it,” Keith protested, but the suggestion lingered, a hesitant question. Why _had_ Shiro been so hard to resist. It would be kind of a let down to realize all the level headedness he'd prided himself for had gone out the window with a pretty smile.

“Hey, I know when I’m beat,” Rolo shrugged. “About his heroic humpiness… I do have a message for you,” Rolo continued casually. “Something he’d like you to know before you run into any more special guests.”  

“So what’s the message?” Keith asked when Rolo said nothing else, his lazy eyes watching the crowd, as though he’d lost interest.

Rolo shrugged. “Can’t tell it to you here- need someplace a little quieter.”

Keith checked his watch and cast a glance at his clean order pile, weighing wariness with uncertainty; with the desire to know what had happened. And what could be important enough for Shiro to entrust to a messenger? “I'm free now.”

He undid his apron, folding it to place on the counter as a signal for anyone else that he’d be back soon.

Rolo smiled, just a quirk of his mouth. “Hot.”

Keith ushered Rolo into one of the empty side lounges that the club management sometimes rented out for parties and events. Tonight, however, it was empty, chairs neatly stacked and air conditioning turned off, leaving a vaguely stifled, muggy feeling to the air. Like stepping into a disused chapel.

He stopped just inside the door, wanting an escape route in case Rolo seemed just as sleazy as he came off as. “The message?” He prompted, turning to the demon, his hand still on the doorknob. He didn’t much care if Rolo thought he was being paranoid. After yesterday, he definitely wasn’t paranoid _enough._

“He just said-- to be careful.”

Keith’s scowl deepened, anger making his blood run hot. “That’s it? He’s the one who started this whole mess-- he tried to--”

“Better than what them angels’re gonna do to you, kitten,” Rolo drawled, leaning against the wall next to the door.

“I’m supposed to believe they’re worse than the demons-- somehow?’ Keith scoffed.

“You’d be surprised. Funny how stories get twisted, ain’t it? Who’s to say what’s written down’s what happened? All angels get is good PR.”

Keith shook his head. “I’m not listening to this.” He pulled the door open, intending to go back to the bar.

Rolo’s arm blocked him, pushing the door back into place. “What’s the rush?”

A chill froze Keith’s spine. “You said you were done.”

“Had to get you here, didn’t I? You know, you should take advice more often,” Rolo said conversationally. “You seem like a reasonable guy, after all.”

Keith yanked harder at the door- it didn’t budge.

“What are you _doing_?” Keith hissed, just for something to say, to fill the tense silence.

“Finishing the job,” Rolo said, and caught Keith’s chin, pulling him forcibly into a kiss.

Keith pressed his lips together, half-turned, until Rolo shifted, slamming him into the back of the door and knocking his breath out. The demon leaned in, slick tongue sliding serpentine in his mouth, deepening the kiss.

It tasted like sweet liqueur, a cloying sweetness chased by fire.

And just like before, Keith’s knees went weak, his mind clouded. Except, this time, he could tell what was the kiss and what was his own mind. Rolo was a good-looking guy. But that was where the similarities stopped. This wasn’t the confusing, overwhelming tumble he’d felt when Shiro had taken him aside.  

Keith snapped his elbow back, trying to pry a bit of space, but Rolo had him pinned to the door, his surprisingly broad chest pressed against Keith’s back.

“Don’t know why you’re resisting-  just a few minutes and all your troubles’ll be over. No more  angels-- no more demons. We’ll all find someone else to fight over. Maybe not as delicious as you, but there’s always someone else. Just one sweet night and you’ll wake up tomorrow, back to your normal life with your normal problems and your normal friends. Isn’t that what you want?”

Keith faltered, put that way, the proposition was  _tempting._ To wake up and have it all this be a dream. No apocalypse. No supernatural war. Somebody else’s problem.

Rolo smiled and pushed his knee between Keith’s thighs. “You don’t owe anyone anything, do you? Not the angels, that’s for sure. What did they ever do for you?” He nipped at Keith’s throat, silk-soft lips skimming up under his ear.  “Where were they when your mother died? One of their own, but they couldn’t save her.”

Keith shivered, the fog in his brain making him uncertain- and Rolo was right, wasn’t he? What was he saving it for, anyway? It wasn’t as though he had anyone special. Rolo’s slender, nimble hands made quick work of his uniform, pants falling around his ankles as fingers slid down Keith’s inner thighs to spread them further apart. His hand cupped around his cock, fondling him gently through the soft cotton of his boxers and prompting a gasp.

“Wh-wait,” Keith said, instinctively recoiling from the strange touch.

“Don’t,” the low voice purred in his ear, “stop thinking so hard...” Rolo slid a hand slowly under his shirt, flirting over the taut skin on his soft stomach up to one nipple, rolling the pert bead around slowly with his thumb.

“Nh,” Keith gasped and pushed his clothed cock into Rolo’s hand. He was hard, the tip of his cock starting to leak precum. It was insane- to be this overstimulated just from a few touches from a guy, a lamb-skinned monster, he knew nothing about.

“Gorgeous,” the voice cooed, “look at how wet this pretty little cock is getting.” Rolo squeezed him and it felt like he could come just from that.

Then, Rolo stopped, pulling back.

The sword that went through the door missed Keith’s nose by a scant two inches.

For a second, just a wild, irrational moment, he thought Shiro had returned.

But the sword was too elegant for that. It burst into flame, the heat like a punch to Keith’s face, raising blisters on his skin. But that was nothing next to Rolo- his flesh sizzled, like he’d been pressed to a hot grill. The blade had gone through his shoulder, pinning him. He hissed and lashed out with his good arm, a shiv in hand. But whatever spell he’d had over Keith was gone, dissolved by the acrid smell and fear.  

“ _Ligatis_.” The angel commanded. Her sword danced with sigils, pouring down like syrup onto Rolo’s skin. His arm froze mid-slash, the weapon falling from his stiffened hand. At his feet, a strange, arcane circle had formed. Keith scrambled out of it, unwilling to touch the glowing edge. It spread slowly, as though writing itself in a steady spiral.

“The Princess herself, to what do I owe the honor?” Rolo’s voice was strained, creaking around vowels, as though fighting whatever was freezing him in place. He wasn’t holding Keith to the door anymore. Keith let himself fall to his knees, hastily pulling his pants back up.

“I _thought_ there had to be more of you about,” Allura said darkly. She pulled her sword out of the door. “Where are the rest of your ilk?”

“Out. Killing angels, probably.” If Rolo could shrug, he might have. “Got a point system worked out. Folks are getting real competitive with so few of you left. Not as many wings to put up as there used to be. The recruitment drive’s been pretty bad, eh? Too bad nobody likes to join the losing side.”

“Erstwhile Hell teems with vermin like you, preying on innocents and devouring life.” Allura shook her head, but her grip on her sword was tight with a fine tremor. “Tell me where you took Zarkon’s Host and I’ll send you back whence you came.”

Rolo grinned, mouth stretching, too uncanny and wide to be mirth. “Don’t you know not to make deals with demons, Princess? After all, even the idiot down there does. Your last hope, isn’t he? Wasn’t putting up much of a fight. Doesn’t even know how to use his Grace. I’d say this round’s ours again already. It’s just a matter of time.”

Keith flinched at the reminder of how stupid he’d been.

“Enough. You’ve had your chance. The seal is complete. _Retexo._ ” She raised her sword and thrust it through Rolo’s chest.

Keith watching it, could only stare, paralyzed, as Rolo’s gave a single, unearthly scream, sounding distant and immediate at once, like an ache in his teeth and a sonic boom. It made his head hurt, his hands going up to hold it.

When the screaming stopped, Keith opened his eyes to nothing, the seal was gone.

Unnerved, Keith backed away from Allura, bumping up against the stacked chairs in the room.

Allura sheathed her sword and turned to look at him. For all that she had been beautiful, that she had been powerful, never had she looked so _terrible_ as she did, looking down the edge of her blade.

Keith’s throat locked up.

So this was their war. Was this what all angels were like? What about demons?

Keith flinched back when Allura turned to him. “Had I known they’d found you I would not have let you out of my sight,” she said, frowning. Her eye ran over Keith’s disheveled appearance. She touched his face, cool fingers soothing away the sting of the burns on his face and lifting the fog that had made his body sluggish, locked down on itself. “They are abominations, one and all. Are you alright, Keith?”

Keith shook his head, his hands shaking and cold. He clenched them. “Of course I’m not! It’s been one crazy thing after the other ever since--” Ever since Shiro had found him.

Allura knelt before him. “I understand you are confused. Know that when you join with my father, you will find peace and comfort.”

“And if I don’t?”

Allura’s expression clouded over. “Then you will almost certainly die. They will not stop hunting you. One way or the other, demons only destroy- it is in their nature. Consorting with demons is a poison that taints your soul. If you are fortunate, you will perish with your soul intact. Likely, you will be damned; trapped to suffer in  the pits of hell.”

“What kind of choice is that?” It was no better than extortion. Not that he’d serously thought it’d be anything else.

“More than some have.” Allura said, and for a moment, she seemed… sad. “Choices are a matter of which consequence you can live with, Keith--”

Allura cocked her head, turning away from Keith suddenly. “Put down one pest and two more come out,” she clicked her tongue, standing.  

Two larger figures stepped out of nothing. The first was a tall, broad giant of a man, hair shorn short and looking to be in his mid forties- one of his eyes was missing- and he hadn’t bothered to hide it, the empty cavity where it once was a dark pit. The other eye was a sickly yellow. The second was a woman, older still, her straggly hair falling mid-waist and her severe face marked with deep scars, as though someone had tried to mutilate her face. Both were dressed in dark suits.

“Zarkon must be desperate to send you both at once.”

“Only victory interests the Emperor of Hell. We are simply here to ensure it,” the woman said, managing to make her hoarse voice silky.  

The man heaved a titanic greatsword, larger and heavier than Shiro’s. It was more like a guillotine than a sword and it crackled with lightning. “No more games. If we kill him, this cycle is ours. Surrender now, boy, and we’ll make it quick- you won’t even feel your head fly off.”  

Allura’s sword blazed. “Forgetting something, aren’t we?” She stepped in front of Keith, weapon at ready. “Always getting ahead of yourself.”

“You’ll barely slow me down. Or did you forget--” The man threw his broadsword as them, as though it weighed no more than a playing card. “Last time, I won.”

Allura swung her sword out, repelling the man's much heavier blade wih a grunt of effort. The great sword clattered to the floor before dematerializing, reappearing back in the older man's hand.

“Keith, run. There is sanctuary, not far from here, make for it,” Allura said briskly. Allura was strong- how much stronger could the demons be that she had already half-accepted defeat?

Keith ducked into a roll, trying to make himself a smaller target as he ran for the door.

He all but yanked the door off its hinges, pulse pounding in his ears, but before he could take a single step, a large hand covered his mouth, stifling his scream. Keith struck back against the hold wildly, struggling. In the room, Allura was still fighting- the man and his sword still across the room with the old woman.

“ _Keith_ , it’s me,” his captor hissed urgently.

A familiar, square-jawed face with gaslight eyes, his hair streaked back as though he’d been hurtling through a strong wind.

“Come with me,” Shiro said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was so hard to write... 
> 
> Incidentally and totally unrelated, I'm lowkey looking for a fic beta(s) (not necessarily just this one fic)- let me know if interested here or on tumblr link below. :')


	8. Chapter 8

Any relief Keith might have felt at Shiro’s safe return quickly evaporated in the face of an overwhelming panic. 

“Shiro?” Keith gasped as Shiro bundled him into a coat. “Wait- stop!” 

Shiro wasn’t listening, tossing Keith bodily over his shoulder. Something lurched in Keith’s stomach and suddenly Allura and the two demons she was fighting disappeared, replaced by an empty room, tinted a deep violet, like someone had dropped a filter in front of his eyes. In this strange violet world, Shiro’s dark, shadowy wings filled Keith’s vision.

“What are you  _ doing _ ?” Keith said, hitting Shiro’s shoulder. Did he come here with the other two? Who were they? More importantly, where was he taking him? 

“Getting you  _ out _ ,” Shiro said, taking the door out and past an eerily empty club. His wings stretched out once they were in open air. That was the only warning Keith had before they took off.  

Shiro landed on the balcony of a penthouse apartment, casually smashing the window and depositing Keith on the nearby bed. “I should’ve just done this days ago.” He flicked the buttons on his shirt open, reaching for Keith’s vest. 

Keith pushed his hand away, scooting further up on the bed so he could sit up. “You mean so you wouldn’t have needed to send your friend to do it?” 

“My-- what?” Shiro stared down at him, perplexed. 

“Rolo. Your demon pal.” 

“What about-- did he do something?” 

“He tried to do what you’re doing and got zapped for it.” Keith chose to omit the fact that Allura had saved him in the nick of time. 

Shiro frowned. “I didn’t send him.”

“You really expect me to believe that? It doesn’t matter who does it, so long as the job gets done, right? Your other friends were ready to cut my head off!” 

“They’re not-- they’re not my friends. And it matters. To me, it does.” 

Keith gave a snort of disbelief. “Why? Do you have a point system for that, too?”

The demon’s brow creased. “Keith, I don’t know what people have been saying, but please, you’ve seen the angels. This will be better for you.” 

“Better for me-or better for  _ you _ ?”Keith asked acridly. Anger was good. Anger would keep him from falling prey to demonic wiles. He pulled his vest back on. “Why  _ shouldn’t _ a demon just be out to get what he wants? Sounds like a pretty regular day at work.” 

“Keith,” Shiro said, sounding harried. “I just want to take you out of this. The easiest way to do that is if I take away what makes you  _ useful _ to them.” 

“Because of the war?” Keith arched a brow. 

The demon shook his head slowly, not meeting his gaze. “Because-- because you remind me of someone I used to know. When I was human.”

“When… you...?” Keith repeated, confused. “You were human?” 

Shiro’s expression was tight and unhappy. “A long time ago, I was… studying to enter the Church. But I’d begun to succumb to doubt and there was-- a lot going on back then. The long and short of it is I made a deal I shouldn’t have and I’m still paying for it now.” 

“Sure. Sex all day. Sounds  _ punishing _ ,” Keith drawled. Something was off. That explanation was too neat. Demons that were humans once? Why bring this up now? How did one  _ become _ a demon? 

Shiro sighed. “I would have told you sooner if I thought you’d care for the answer.” 

“Let me get this straight. I looked like a friend you once had. So you want to fuck me out of the goodness of your heart? In memoriam?” Keith repeated, trying to puzzle it out. “...This ‘friend’. You liked him?” 

The expression on Shiro’s face said enough. 

Keith wondered if it was worse to be fucked for a mission or as a substitute. Both seemed like pretty terrible options, honestly. “Damn, you suck at this. Even Rolo had a better argument. I can’t believe I thought you were suave. Go turn your demon cred in, right now.” He shook his head and slipped off the bed, keen to get distance between them.

Shiro watched him sharply. “Keith, be reasonable. You don’t have to shoulder the burden of the angels in this war-- even if they win, the cycle will just repeat itself.” 

“How long until it does?” 

Shiro hesitated. “It varies. I’ve never been in one before. Half a millennia or so, maybe.” 

And in the meantime, chaos and evil, Keith supposed. Like Rolo. Like the strangers who’d tried to behead him. That probably wasn’t even the worst of it- after all, most people didn’t have any guardian angels who cared what the demons did to them in particular. Rivers of blood, that was a thing, wasn’t it? Famine and suffering. A world so twisted it devoured itself. 

Had he ever had a choice? 

Abruptly, Shiro looked up. “They’ve found us. We have to go.” 

“Keith!” Allura shouted frantically, stumbling into the room in a burst of light. She looked bedraggled, hair spilling out of her braid and clothing singed. It was a startling contrast. Even angels, it seemed, weren’t impervious to the wear and tear of battle exhaustion. 

Shiro drew back, a quick movement settling a sword into his grip. 

Allura noticed. Her eyes found the demon and hardened. “You--” she tried to go for him, only to stumble, catching herself just in time by using her sword as a cane. One of her wings seemed to be broken, the shaped shadows sticking out at an angle. Exhaustion and pain softened the austerity of her face. Like this, it was a shock to realize that she looked younger, less the exorcist and more… human. 

“You’re in no condition to start a fight, Princess,” Shiro said, but his blade stayed in his hand. 

“He’s right,” a chilling voice purred. “You’re not half the warrior you were a thousand years ago.” The older male demon from the Club stepped through the shattered balcony. He must have followed Allura in. 

“You need to get to a Sanctuary,” Allura urged Keith, taking up her sword again. Caught between Shiro and the other demon, she backed towards a wall, attempting to take Keith with her. 

“You should leave this to us,” the unknown demon said, addressing Shiro. “Your failure has been noted.”

“He doesn’t  _ need _ to die, Sendak. Let me work on him a little longer.” 

“He doesn’t  _ need _ to  _ live _ . And that’s ‘sir’ to you, runt,” the demon sneered, hefting his blade. “The Witch has gone to inform our liege. I suggest you follow and get started on explaining yourself.” 

Allura pushed Keith towards the door and sank her sword onto the ground while the demons talked. The flash of the enchanted fire drew their attention-- long enough for ‘Sendak’ to realize what she was doing. 

“Not likely, Princess.” He lunged forward, sweeping her away with a single mighty swing of his sword, sending her crashing into a wall. There was a sickening crunch that twisted Keith’s gut even as he turned to run.

Sendak grabbed him before he could get away, pulling the mortal violently  back by his elbow. Something cracked and Keith screamed as pain exploded in his arm. He fell at the demon’s feet, breathing hard as he tried to process the pain long enough to grab at Allura’s sword, still stuck into the apartment floor. His aim missed, his palm cutting itself open on the naked edge. He grabbed at the handle, trying to pull it out, but his angle was wrong, grip slippery with blood. 

Too late, he thought in panic. Sendak’s greatsword was raised, an executioner in wait, his arm falling for the chop. 

“Stop!” Shiro demanded.

The claymore sank into the carpet a full foot from Keith’s head. Sendak roared his outrage. “How  _ dare _ you.”

For a second, Keith wasn’t sure what had happened. But Sendak had fallen, Shiro’s blade thrust through his gut, its owner braced on top of it. 

“I never liked the way you ran things,” Shiro said, grunting as he tried to shove the sword deeper into the man’s enormous chest. “Princess, get yourself together!” he called.  

“You’d ask succor from an Angel? Once a traitor, always a traitor, isn’t it, Shirogane?” Sendak spat. His weapon was back in his hand. “I’ll flay you bit by bit and roast you in your own skin. The Druids will love it. They miss you, did you know?” 

Allura was struggling to her feet, her dislocated arm limp against her side. Keith heaved her sword out of the floor, working it free and hoping he had the right idea. 

It didn’t matter if he did. There was no room for hesitation. He tore the tip out at last, absorbing the recoil as he turned. With both hands, he thrust the sword down, stabbed Sendak’s chest, roughly over where his heart would be-- if he had one, still. He hoped the binding still worked. For a few seconds, it seemed to hold, Sendak’s body writhing around the blade. 

Sendak’s roar was worse than Rolo’s had been. Blood-curling and pounding against his lungs. 

“You little wretch,” Sendak gasped. Then Allura was there and her hand closed over Keith’s blood-slick hand. 

“I’ll fuck your open skull. I’ll whip you with your own entrails--” the demon threatened. 

“Silence!” Allura gasped as the markings started to appear. “This is the end, Sendak. You won’t see Hell again.” Her hand glowed and Keith jerked as something prickled at his skin, like it was draining something from him. Allura put her other hand over his, keeping him still as the sword lit up in flames. The seal appeared faster this time, sketching out underneath them as she spoke the words. 

Sendak was still talking, expression manic. “Zarkon has roused, you ailing mongrel bitch! We’ve already won-” 

_ “Retexo.” _

The impact of Sendak’s dispersal was like an explosion, an ache in Keith’s head, singing in his teeth, and then he was gone. 

Keith collapsed, exhausted. It took a moment before he realized-- he  _ wasn’t in pain. _

He looked at his arm in wonder, touching the bone that had most definitely been broken, snapped like a toothpick, just a few minutes ago. 

“Did you heal me?”

“It’s your Grace- I had to channel it-- there would have been some side effects,” Allura explained. She looked even more tired than Keith did. Her wings drooped, smaller puddles on the floor as though some of her feathers had fallen out. “You had more power than I expected,” she admitted. 

“Nearly took me with it, too,” Shiro said, almost mildly. His hands, Keith saw with a start, were burnt. His skin was blackened, angry raw flesh underneath. He’d had his sword in Sendak, too. Clearly it had cost him.  

“ _ That _ was my intention,” Allura said tartly, leveling a deathglare at the demon.

“Who do you think bought you time before Sendak killed you?” Shiro demanded.

“Please, you had an ulterior motive. Your kind always does,” Allura scoffed back, tossing her hair with a sharp turn. 

“Stop,” Keith said, head starting to pound again, like someone was drilling a million tiny needles into his skull. He was beyond exhausted, pushed into a twilight zone of lucid calm. 

Allura continued to glare daggers at Shiro anyway. “Demons are liars, whatever he’s told you--”

“I know,” Keith interrupted, using his strange fatalistic calm to run over her words. “I’m going to be your Vessel.” 

“What?” Shiro hunched forward in disbelief.  “Keith, you can’t--” 

“I made up my mind- if you wanted to win so bad, you should’ve let him kill me,” Keith cut in. “You said you were human, once. I guess that means you cared, once. But how many like  _ him _ are there back in hell, doing shit like this for fun?” He jerked his chin at the empty space where Sendak had been. “Maybe if I do what you want they’ll stop going after  _ me _ . Then,  for the rest of us mere mortals we’ll be stuck in Hell until we die for more.” 

He was so tired. He couldn’t even shake his head. “Look, thanks for saving us and everything, but if you’re here for your mission, get out now while nobody can stop you.” 

Shiro stared and shifted back on his heels, blowing out a gusty sigh. “A martyr only looks good in the history books, Keith. Have you thought about how you might lose anyway?” 

“I have to try,” Keith answered. If he gave up every time something didn’t go his way, he wouldn’t have scraped his life together after his parents died. He wouldn’t have decided to work at a shelter, where success stories had the shadows of failures at its heels. 

Shiro watched him, dark eyes stormy. “If you really want to do this, there’s something else you should know. The other side-- their vessel is Matthew Holt.” 

Keith froze. “ _ What _ ?”  Pidge’s brother, Matt Holt? 

“He’s of the blood, just barely. His sister doesn’t have the mark- she’s just a normal human girl from what I saw.” 

Keith went for his pockets- his phone-- it was still at the bar. Pidge had never replied… he’d thought she’d gotten caught up on a game, but what if-- 

“When? Since when did he--?” Keith clenched a fist in his lap.

Shiro watched him soberly. “I only learned of it today.” 

Matt had been due a visit. Had they taken PIdge, too? Or was Pidge out looking for him now, unaware? What would the demons do to her? 

“He’d never-- he wouldn’t be willing.” Keith refused to believe Matt would succumb. But… how much did he really know about Matt Holt? Not a whole lot. Just that Pidge adored him and that he’d gone to a fancy smartypants college. But he wasn’t a  _ bad _ guy. His memories of Matt Holt tended towards video games and a room filled with nerdy science posters; that one time he’d let Pidge and her friends sneak a sip of beer each. He used to cover for them when their parents started being concerned about Pidge spending so much time with boys instead of girls her own age. 

“Maybe he will, if they find the right leverage,” Shiro said. “You heard Sendak talk about the Druids- finding weak spots is their occupation.” There was something bleak and cold in Shiro’s eyes as he said it.  “I’ve had the druids version of hospitality. Most normal human souls break before long.” 

“You don’t know that!” But neither did Keith. 

“It doesn’t matter who Zarkon’s Vessel is,” Allura interrupted. “The War will go on and he's had his pick. I’m sorry, Keith, but it won’t be the first time they’ve chosen someone close to ours.” Her eyes hardened, just a little bit. “If anything, they prefer it.” 

“I’m not going to fight Matt!” Keith took a breath. “There has to be a way. He’s not the Vessel yet. And even if he is, maybe there’s a way to-- save him.” 

“You said you’d be our Vessel--” Allura argued. 

“And I will!” Keith snapped. “If there’s no other choice, your dad can move in. But I’m not giving up without knowing what’s happened to him. He’s Pidge’s  _ brother _ ! Or don’t you care enough about innocent people to try, either? You can’t just write him off without knowing anything! He’s human, too! From where I’m sitting, it doesn’t seem like angels care any more than the demons do!” Keith clenched his fist. “I’m only agreeing to this because I care about humans, even if you don’t.” 

Allura fell silent, unhappy. She didn’t look any more convinced for all of Keith’s tirade. Then again, Keith had never exactly been a public speaker. 

“There may be a way,” she conceded after a long pause. “If we had more information-- and time. Particularly if he has yet to succumb to Zarkon’s will.” 

“I can help,” Shiro offered abruptly. Almost casually. 

Keith and Allura turned to him, shock and suspicion mingling into twin grimaces.

If Shiro noticed he chose not to comment. “Nobody knows I’m here or what I did. I can at least get close enough to the Vessel to figure out if he’s still his own person.” 

“And you’re helping because…?” Keith asked, his chest twinging a bit at the reminder that Shiro’s motives had always been-- muddled. That had been the way he was from the start. 

“...They’ll notice Sendak is gone, eventually. If Zarkon wins, he’ll find out what happened to his protege. If we can delay the cycle, it might be enough for me to do something.”

“You mean you’d step into his position,” Allura said shrewdly. “And save your own neck.” 

“If that’s what it takes,” Shiro said calmly. 

Keith nodded, sending Allura a look. “I’ll take anything that’ll help.”

Allura glared at Shiro mutinously. “I don’t trust you.” 

“The sentiment is mutual,” Shiro acknowledged. “But I’m going to need a little help, too.” 

“What kind of help?” Keith asked. He had a bad feeling about this. 

Shiro presented his charred hands. “Normally, I could heal them myself, but it’s been a long few days and I’m running a little low.” 

Allura connected the dots before Keith did, gasping in outrage. “You will  _ not _ .”

“Can’t Allura heal you? Or my--” Keith waved a hand tiredly. His ‘ _ Grace’ _ . He couldn’t even think it with a straight face. He’d never had grace in his life. 

“Angel’s Grace burns. That’s what got me into this situation in the first place,” Shiro said drily. “It won’t heal me.” 

Keith didn’t like where this was going. “Stop beating around the bush. Tell us what you need.” 

“Keith, you can’t let him- he’ll turn on you the moment he has you in his bed,” Allura bit out. “Like a snake in the grass.” 

“As it so happens,” Shiro said placidly. “I do need to have sex with you.” 

Keith blanched. “Try again. I can’t. I’m still supposed to be the Vessel.”

“And you will be,” Shiro reassured. “The… rules are rigid and specific. So long as you aren’t penetrated, you’ll remain… fit to serve as a Vessel.”  

Keith glanced at Allura to confirm the information. From the thunderous look she had, he supposed it was true. 

“I can’t condone this,” she declared hotly. “To give a demon an inch is to surrender a mile.” 

“It isn’t your decision to make-- Princess,” Shiro added, a mocking afterthought. 

“ _ Demon _ ,” Allura snipped back. 

Keith was starting to get the feeling just being in their presence would be enough to tire him out, even without the magical shenanigans. He was suddenly glad that neither of them were in any condition to actually  _ fight _ . Allura’s wings and Shiro’s body were in obvious tatters. The last thing he needed was a repeat of that rainy day showdown.

“How about you?” Keith asked a bit awkwardly, nodding at Allura’s scrapes. “Is there something that’d… help?” 

“I’ll rest in Father’s Light,” Allura said. “But I won’t leave this... malevolent louse alone with you.” 

“It’s been a while since I’ve had an audience,” Shiro noted.

“No audiences!” Keith said, rapidly cutting off that line of thought. He felt his cheeks burn at the idea. No way. 

Allura had a point, though. Maybe it wasn’t wise to let Shiro have his way without some kind of insurance. 

“Allura, can you-- stand watch outside the door?” The bedroom they’d entered was pretty wrecked, but the door still worked, he hoped. 

“You don’t  _ need _ to humor him.” 

“No, but he’s our best shot at getting close to Matt. Please. I’m not breaking any promises.” He tried to inject as much steel into his voice as he could, holding her gaze. He might be on their side, but he wasn’t going to be their puppet. And if this was part of that, he had to make a stand. 

“I meant what I said. I’m on your side. Saving Matt isn’t me going to the other one. I just don’t think there’s any point to saving my friends by  _ killing _ them. I’m  _ not _ backing down on this. So either you let me do things my way and have your Vessel or I’ll do this without you and I’ll probably die or become unfit.” Keith took a breath, trying to keep his worn voice steady. “From everything you’ve told me, you can’t afford that.”

He held her gaze uncomfortably- they really were a strange color, iridescent, shifting shades like a contained galaxy. The moment lengthened into three; to six.

Finally, Allura nodded stiffly. Her head whipped around towards Shiro. “If you try, I’ll know,” Allura informed him, sending one last glare over her shoulder as she stalked off to the kitchen with all the affronted dignity of a snowy owl. 

Keith waited until the door clicked, then turned to Shiro, an awkward silence descending upon them, longer even than his little staredown with Allura.

“So,” he began nervously, unable to look Shiro in the eye. He might’ve signed up for a suicide mission, but he hadn’t realized it wouldn’t get him out of something he’d avoided for the past two decades. “I noticed you left out the part about most humans dying after you’re done with them.” 

“But you’re not a regular human, are you?” Shiro asked rhetorically. “If I drained every last drop of energy out of you, it’s possible you’d die. But you’d last a few turns longer with your heritage.”

“And what you’re planning to do, it’ll make me weak?” 

“Until the next day,” Shiro agreed. 

Keith’s heart thudded in his throat. “Alright. What is it you wanted to do?” 

Shiro leaned forward and got to his feet. “Not here. We may as well use the bed.” 

Keith swallowed and followed him to it. The bed creaked under their weight, almost too loud. Keith wondered if whoever had lived her had any neighbors- if they did, they were out, too- nobody had come to disturb them despite committing demonic murder. 

“Your fear-- it’s more than first time jitters, isn’t it?” Shiro asked, his dark eyes on the tremor of Keith’s hands. 

“It’s most of it,” Keith said shortly. 

“Why  _ haven’t _ you had sex? Were you never interested? Does sex repulse you?” 

“No,” Keith said. “I was-- I thought it was too much trouble. It never ends well and I’m not much for flings--” He cut himself off abruptly. Why was he even saying this? He doubted the demon actually cared. He took his vest off, ripping the clip-on tie from around his neck in a fit of nerves. Sex was just sex. Nothing to be afraid of. It wasn’t like he was a prude. He had a decent idea of what Shiro was going to do. 

But the idea that  _ Shiro _ would be doing it to him had his body flushed. It made his gut twist. It was too soon and too many things had happened. Thinking about what Shiro actually wanted-- about who he was and how he felt, knowing what he did now, made his head spin. In the turmoil of his thoughts, he could admit, he was--- scared. For reasons that didn’t have a lot to do with what Shiro was. 

“I’ll make it easy,” Shiro promised quietly. He slipped his rumpled shirt off, letting it fall off his broad shoulders. Keith took a moment to stare, hopelessly arrested by the hard planes of his chest and the coil of untapped power under his skin. 

Even now, disheveled, hands burnt, he was breathtakingly gorgeous. 

If he’d let him, that first night, Keith wondered what would have happened. If Shiro had seduced him with a kiss before he had time to be frightened. Maybe it would’ve been better. He had the suspicion that he wouldn’t have remembered it afterwards. Or Shiro might’ve lied and he would be dead. Just like he might very well be after this, if he wasn’t careful. 

Slowly, Keith pushed his pants off but left his boxers on, needing that extra layer of security, just then. He toed his shoes off and started to open his shirt, then realized he didn’t need to. 

“Keep going,” Shiro prompted, when he stopped.

“But-- I’m going out on a limb here, but you don’t really need me to strip, do you?” 

“I do. Let me see.” 

Keith shivered and slowly stripped his shirt off, sitting back on the bed in just his boxers and dark socks.

“May I kiss you?” 

Keith hesitated. “No- the last time that happened--” 

“Alright,” Shiro agreed readily. “May I kiss you anywhere else?” 

“I… yeah, okay,” Keith agreed, confused. 

Shiro smiled- in a way that made Keith immediately regret his decision. The countermand was on his lips, breath caught to release the words, before Shiro pressed a finger to them.

“You worry too much.” Shiro whispered lowly, leaning over him and starting to nuzzle his neck. “Touch yourself for me?” 

Keith could’ve told him he didn’t need to- he was hard embarrassingly fast, his dick tenting the front of his boxers. “I-- ah,” he wavered, then palmed himself through his boxers. He’d jerked himself off, just like this, not too long ago, hadn’t he? 

“That’s good,” Shiro murmured, warm lips trailing down from his neck and down Keith’s chest. He rubbed his cheek into it for a moment, then licked the soft nubs of Keith’s nipples.

“Ngh,” Keith gasped, his cock twitching. He’d never bothered with his nipples before but somehow Shiro was teasing sensation from them he hadn’t known he’d had. Shiro worried at them with his lips until the skin pinked. 

“Your skin marks up so pretty, just like I thought it would,” Shiro murmured as he continued his journey down Keith’s taut, tense stomach. “If I had the time…” 

“Do you need to talk so much?” Keith blurted out.

Shiro laughed. “I won’t for long, don’t worry. But these,” he paused, snapping the elastic of Keith’s boxers, “have to go.” 

Keith hesitated, a moment when Shiro held his gaze, then pushed his boxers down, too. His cock sprang up, flushed and already trembling with need. 

Shiro admired it for a moment, nuzzling the crease of Keith’s thigh. “Even pretty down here, hm?” 

“You said you’d shut up.”

“I did.” Shiro propped himself up on his elbows and carefully took the tip of Keith’s cock into his mouth. Wrapping his lips over his teeth, he sank down on Keith’s shaft in one long slide, not stopping until his nose was buried against Keith’s skin. 

“Fuck!” Keith moaned loudly, leaking and arching into Shiro’s hot, soft mouth with a whimper. He could feel Shiro’s throat flex around him. Keith’s thighs pulled up and his fingers found themselves tangled in Shiro’s short hair. 

Shiro’s throat rumbled, then hummed. Keith nearly lost it, then, thrusting up involuntarily into Shiro’s mouth only to have him pull away. 

“What- I was close--” Keith gasped. 

“Not yet,” Shiro said, teasing the tip of Keith’s cock with his tongue, pushing more of the foreskin down to expose the pink head. “I’ve barely started.” 

“Why do you need--  _ ah _ \-- “ Keith lost his train of thought, fingers tightening when the demon tried to move away. 

Shiro kissed the tip, dragging his mouth slowly up and down Keith’s shaft until he was leaking precum, streaking it across Shiro’s handsome face right before he licked it up. 

Shiro sucked lightly, then sank back down on Keith’s cock, bobbing his head twice before repeating the cycle. Keith shuddered violently, watching Shiro’s short, thick lashes flutter as his cheeks hollowed. 

“Please--” Keith gasped, back bowed, straining towards him. “I can’t--” 

“Go ahead,” Shiro said placidly and pinned Keith’s hips down with his forearm, swallowing him again and again. 

Keith cried out, the shock of his orgasm like a current up his spine. He twisted, trying to buck up against Shiro’s face helplessly. Shiro rode it out, sucking and working around Keith’s twitching cock until he stopped, falling back against the bed. 

There was that tugging sensation again, a little bit like when Allura had grabbed his hand. It felt like it was seeping from his skin, curling against Shiro’s.

Weariness slammed into Keith like a ton of bricks. Dimly, he could feel Shiro straighten, the ruined flesh of his hands healing back into smoothness. He cradled Keith’s hips in them. “Thanks for the meal,” he purred. His eyes glowed, the slit-pupils dark against the gold. His mouth was ruddy, lips swollen as he licked a single bead of pearlescent cum from the corner.

He lapped at Keith lazily, tongue trailing down his sac to the dip of his buttocks. He licked a long, lazy stripe across the pucker, teasing it with slow kisses.  

Keith moaned, too-sensitive. He really should have thought this out better. “You promised,” he said muzzily. “Stop or we’ll burn your dick off next time.” 

Shiro sighed, the picture of regret. “I can’t believe you can still think after an orgasm,” he said, rue framing the edges of his self-deprecating smile. “That just makes me feel inadequate.”

Keith snorted and pulled weakly away. He was so sleepy. How much had Shiro taken? “You should-- go. All healed up, right?” 

Shiro slipped a hand over Keith’s skin, nipping at a bare shoulder. “I always have room for dessert. There’s more left for me to show you.” A hint of sharp teeth at his ear. 

“Stop,” Keith said, suddenly reminded of who Shiro wasn’t. Of how dangerous he was. He struggled to sit up. “You can stop flirting. You got what you needed and I’m not changing my mind about which side I’m on.” 

Something in Shiro’s expression shuttered. “Of course. You’re right.” Clothes formed around him, snapping back into place. He slipped off the bed. “I’ll find you when I have the information.” 

  
Keith turned away from him, closing his eyes. The afterglow faded far too quickly, leaving him sick to his stomach. He’d always known it would end badly. Shiro wasn’t an exception to that, no matter how much some part of him might have thought he could be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it's a 5000 word update! Pretty much the longest chapter yet. I considered splitting it up but... well here you go. :') Thanks for waiting patiently! 
> 
> This chapter beta-ed by takashiskeith on tumblr!


	9. Chapter 9

Shiro walked out of the room hale and whole, the sweet taste of Keith’s orgasm still rolling on his tongue. His power sang with new lifeblood- quite literally. He’d never had it before- energy from a nephilim. In part, because they’d become so rare. That and a handful of old, crumbling memories.

He flexed his hand in its newly-conjured glove, the leather creaking. There was nothing to indicate he’d ever been burned at all. That had been new, once. When he was too freshly mortal to comprehend that impossible was a matter of perspective. For everything.

The angel was right outside, fixing him with a glare before going in to check on Keith.

She was still injured, her wings bedraggled. If he just reached out, he could wrap his hand around that slender neck, it would be easy- _so_ easy.

But no, now wasn’t the time for that. And she was, arguably, the best protection Keith could afford right now. He let her shoulder past him without complaint.

Inside the room, Keith startled at her approach. Their gazes lifted to him for a second, then their voices lowered and Keith flushed, pulling the blankets a little more into his lap. It was a pretty blush, painting a broad stroke down to his neck and creeping down-- Shiro cut himself off and took a breath, licking his lips just a bit and feeling gratified when Keith's gaze traced the motion.

If only he hadn’t waited. That had been stupid. Idiotic, even. But dwelling on his mistakes wouldn’t fix them. Not even those memories that had survived the Druids’ torture.

Keith had picked his side and now, he kept counsel with angels, much good as it might do him. But he’d promised his cooperation. This was where the meal ended. a taste of a dream that left him hollower than when he'd first been spawned. It didn’t really matter what _kind_ of demon you were, when you surrendered your heart, an overwhelming hunger had filled its place. And then, it was a matter of picking your poison.

Maybe this was his fate, a personal eternal damnation, bordered by his own insufficiency. He was Tantalus, standing under the tree; dreaming of fruit, punished for his crimes. He hadn't been enough to save Akira; hadn't been able to do a thing to spare him. And no matter how he tried, he couldn't seem to save Keith. Keith refused to be. But maybe he could still spare him the worst. 

“I’ll be in touch,” he said, when he realized he’d lingered too long, his fingers clenching around a warmth that might as well have been seared.

“You’ll come back,” Keith said.

Shiro’s mouth curved up. “Demons aren’t in the habit of debts.” He turned and slipped between dimensions, vanishing with a Cheshire grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short Shiro interlude before the bigger bulk of the chapter later/tomorrowish. :')


	10. Chapter 10

Keith let out a breath as Shiro left. Not that he didn’t know if he was just sitting somewhere out of sight. The thought had his eyes darting suspiciously around the room. 

“Gone to rat us out, like as not,” Allura grumbled, clearly still a bit sore about Keith’s recent decision making. “We need to move and soon.” 

“That wouldn’t explain why he helped… do whatever to that other one.”

“They’re demons. There’s no honor or love lost amongst them.” Allura pursed her lips and finished her examination. 

Keith… couldn’t argue with that. He’d feel pretty stupid if this came back around to bite them in the ass. But it wasn’t like he had a lot of options, either. Even a possibility of an ally was better than none. More confusing was the conflicting mix of feelings that roiled in his gut after the fact, too wrapped up in adrenaline and fear to parse out. 

Allura got to her feet. “You’re free of taint. Remarkably, enough,” she said, a bit more at ease with Shiro gone and Keith unharmed. “But weak, as I’m sure you realize. Neither of us will be able to fight off another attack if we remain here.” 

Keith nodded. “Mind if you, uh, I need to dress.” 

Allura blinked. “Yes, of course.” She passed a hand over her own clothes, mending the little rips and tears. He wondered if that trick cost her less than a full change might have. 

It seemed to take her another moment to realize that  _ Keith _ couldn’t exactly do that, though. He was still stuck doing it the normal, human way. 

He dressed quickly- and under the blanket, for good measure, no matter how much stupider it looked. He wasn’t sure if flashing an angel would have him struck down by lightning, but he figured it couldn’t hurt to be careful. 

He got up, rumpled, but fully dressed, running a hand through his hair. It was… almost impossible that just a short while ago he’d had his fingers in Shiro’s, Shiro’s mouth on him, the both of them teetering on an undefined edge, ready to fall either way. 

“What now?” he asked, trying to shake the thoughts. 

“I need to rest-- and you will need to meet Father.” 

“Like, in Heaven?” Keith balked, paling at the idea. 

“I suppose you might be able to call it that,” Allura said, pausing a moment to consider. “It’s part of the realm of Angels, though it might not be what you expect.” 

Keith wasn’t sure he could expect anything. Nothing about Allura was anything like how angels were depicted in paintings or TV, except for, maybe, the wings. “How am I supposed to get there?” 

“With me,” she said, holding one deceptively slender hand out towards him.

Keith reached for it, then pulled back. “Wait, I need to get my phone- one of my friends, Matt’s sister could be looking for him.” 

Allura frowned. “Your phone?”

“A mobile. Something I can use to contact people.”

“Where is it?” 

“Back at the bar.” The bar that was probably at least partially trashed. He was definitely going to be fired if they ever found out it was his fault. Not that his disappearing act could be any more incriminating. 

It took a short argument, but Allura finally agreed to drop by- a quick in and out. Keith barely had time to tell Suki he had an emergency before Allura was tugging him away. 

It was a short flight, or at least it felt like it, a bit like hurtling through space in the space of a few breaths.

When Allura set Keith down, disentangling from him, he had to close his eyes against the bright glare all around him, searing his eyes like a thousand spotlights. “What-- where is this?” 

“The Altar of Light,” Allura replied.

Well, they made their point, at least. Keith covered his eyes to block the worst of it, stumbling until he could find a spot that wasn’t quite so brightly lit.

“Here begins the Reckoning,” she continued. She reached for Keith and pressed cool fingers against his face. ”You’re half mortal, so the light may take some getting used to, but it won’t hurt you.” 

Keith squinted as he adjusted to the brightness, eyes watering. Allura sounded far more relaxed than he’d ever heard her before. This was obviously her home. Part of it, anyway. 

And then he saw the Lion. It was enormous, filling the room’s space and seeming to both absorb and reflect its light. Varied shades of gold made up its parts, sculpted with fine detail until he thought it might wake from its slumber and move. It rested on a low, white stone bed, tail curled against its base. 

“Father,” Allura said, falling to her knee and touching the statue. She was humming something. A hymn? Or was it some kind of language? 

Keith couldn’t tell. He hung back and tried to figure out what he was here for. She’d called the Lion ‘father’. Did that mean… that was Alfor? Was he going to be possessed by a lion? Would he turn into one? 

He supposed it wasn’t like he should care when those would likely be his final moments. What would it be like, to be the Vessel? Would he simply… cease to exist as Keith? Where would his mind go? Or his soul? He hoped sacrificing your life was enough good karma to get a ticket into Heaven, but then… he supposed that he wouldn’t be sure what to do here, anyway. 

There had to be an Afterlife. Shiro said he’d been human. He wondered when that had been and what he’d been like then. A thrillseeker? Shy? Had he always been self-possessed and cocky? It was hard to imagine him any other way, no matter how horrifying Hell might be in comparison. If Heaven was brightly-lit showrooms, was Hell a dinghy kitchen? 

But this place- it was lonely. Heavy with some pregnant burden he could only begin to guess at. 

It took him a moment to realize that Allura was calling him. “Keith,” she repeated, motioning for him to come closer.

“Father wishes to speak to you. You won’t be able to hear him while being far from his side.” 

Keith nodded and drew near, hesitantly placing a hand on the Lion’s muzzle. The rippled muscle around its jaws and the fine detail of gums and fang were exquisitely rendered. He felt a pang of fear just imagining the lion’s jaws closing over his hand. 

In its mouth, a seed of light appeared. The spark expanded, growing brighter and dampening his other senses as it swallowed him whole. 

Suddenly, he was standing on nothing. An immaterial floor stretched beneath him, paved in a light so brilliant that he couldn’t tell whether there was seam or joint. As if in utter contrast, above and around him, he was surrounded in space- deep dark space. The stars shone far more brightly than any shot taken or conceived on earth, luminescent suns strewn across a technicolor galaxy. Their combined radiance  blotted out shadows, making everything seem to float. It was beautiful-- and harsh. 

“You guess their nature well,” a voice said, reading his thoughts. It made his bones shudder. But there was nobody there. No form. It made sense. Keith was supposed to provide that, after all. 

“Your name is Keith.”

“And you’re Allura’s dad,” he said, suppressing a shrug. “She said you wanted to talk to me?”

“She’s told me much and more- her memories of you have been far more interesting than any Vessel we’ve had in millenia.” 

Was that a good or bad thing?

“You are reluctant, but you are brave. Your heart is strong and your soul is pure. I could not have asked for more from you.” 

“I’m not ready-- not yet. I have things to do,” he blurted out. 

“That too, she’s passed to me.” Keith wondered if he imagined the voice was… understanding? Sorrowful? It was hard to tell. The plodding monotone, like it took lightyears to reach him, was uninflected, breathed directly into his mind. “It is not yet time, Keith, son of Kaven. Today, I only give you the first step.” 

One of the lights dropped onto Keith’s head, bursting like a bubble of water, anointing him. 

“What… what is it?” 

“A connection. When you have need, you may call on me. When it is time, I will answer.” 

For when he became the Vessel, Keith surmised, shuddering reflexively. He definitely didn’t feel brave in here. 

“To fear is to be mortal. Just as it is to love.” 

Keith wanted to ask what that was supposed to mean when the stars faded away and he was… back in the room, with Allura. 

“I’ll remain here, for a time, to pray,” Allura said, noticing he was back. She didn’t ask him about what he’d seen. Keith wasn’t sure he could begin to say anything about it, even if she had. 

“What should I do?” Keith frowned. He didn’t think he could get back on earth without Allura, no matter how he itched to. 

“We’ve libraries- texts which we may be able to use to help save your friends. I’ve asked Coran to show you.”

“Who?” Keith asked, then saw the tall, redheaded man from before, waving at him from the back of the room. 

= 

Coran, as it turned out, was almost the exact opposite of Allura. Also, a cupid, which was an actual designation in Heaven, though the specifics varied. Keith was incredibly glad he wasn’t actually mostly naked or dressed in a diaper, but Coran did have a bow and arrow, which he was proud to demonstrate. 

“My apologies, just a little rusty!” he chirped cheerfully as an arrow embedded itself in the stack of sacred books beside Keith’s head. 

“Careful with that thing!” 

“Oh it’s harmless! Just a little lovetap! Quite literally, you understand.” 

“You mean you can actually make people fall in love?” Keith asked. If anything, that was a far more alarming prospect. 

“Oh, I can certainly encourage it! Imagine it as more of a dart of truth, if you will,” Coran explained as he set down a new musty old scroll, his weapon disappearing. He had an arrow out, dusting the paper with the fletched end.

“Mortal love is fascinating, really, you have the most complex desires. And often all anyone needs is a window- an insight that cuts through the mess of your mind and into your soul. Something like ‘heavens, she’s perfect for me!’ or ‘blimey, I want to grow old with him!’” Coran mimicked, acting out his imaginary dramatis personae. 

“Love isn’t something you can force; that's the best part! It’ll come when it will, especially with you fickle mortals! And sometimes all you need is to see it. A little nudge, the right moment, and a properly aimed arrow will do the trick!”

“But you can’t just decide for someone that they need to fall in love. Or realize it,” Keith protested. “What if they don’t want to be? Or what if it’ll make things harder? It’s not like love will cure anything.” Keith frowned as he set aside another of the seals that could maybe be used. Since he had no background in what actually worked, he was pretty much just sorting paper. He opened the next book and flipped through some pages before realizing Coran had gone uncharacteristically silent.

The angel  peered at him over the scroll, his kindly purple eye almost shrewd. “Seems to me, shortstack, you’ve been having some trouble with that.” 

Keith flinched. “I just…” He shook his head. “Loving someone never helped anyone I know.” Not his foster parents, long divorced, or any of his friends. Not his mother, he suspected, from what he remembered of her tired, drawn face. He’d wondered, sometimes, if she’d regretted having him. Now, he wondered if she’d had him simply to do her duty. Up until she died. 

“Your human ‘hearts’ are quite fascinating. Resilient, malleable. Both like stone or sponge,” Coran mused. “Time wears on it, but it has the capacity for great things. Have you wondered, Keith, why we  _ must _ have a human Vessel?” he asked, rubbing at his forearm absentmindedly to push his sleeve up. 

“I figured it was because you had to fight in the human world,” Keith replied.

“That’s certainly part of it, no mistake. But I’m sure you’ve noticed- angels and demons both, the ones who’ve ascended and descended- they can barely remember what it’s like to love, if at all.” 

Like Shiro, Keith thought. Although Coran likely meant to try to explain Allura’s brusqueness. 

“It’s something special about you humans which allow the King and the Emperor to tether themselves in the mortal realm. One of us would never be able to do it, even those who remember being mortal.” 

“I’ve read all of your books, you know! I’m quite the connoisseur,” Coran boasted, smoothing his gingery moustache. “All those Romero-Julianas and Proud Prejudices! Love that consumes- that makes the impossible possible, that’s what you funny little mortals are capable of!” 

“Those are just stories,” Keith said, exasperated. “Nobody in the real world does that. You’d be an idiot to be like that.” 

“Ah-ah, no need to get your underthings in a twist! I’m a professional, you know,” Coran huffed. “I wouldn’t be so quick to judge. Never know when the next one love’s arrow hits and it might very well be you.” 

“Assuming I’m still alive or human by then,” Keith said, pushing the current book away so he could take a new one from the pile. “So the next three, five days. I don’t think the odds are in my favor.”

“ _ Au contraire _ , an approaching end is statistically the best possible time for you to realize something that’s been under your nose the whole time! It happens all the time in the books!” Coran said optimistically. 

Not very comforting. But few things were, right now. His gaze drifted to his phone, quiet. He wasn’t sure how long he’d already spent up here- there didn’t seem to be any clocks, no sunrise or sunset or any other way to tell the time. All he could do was keep looking, one page at a time. 

“Ah, Princess!” 

“Coran,” Allura nodded. “Keith,” she greeted, a touch more hesitantly. She looked better. Much better. Her wings had filled out into the feathery glory that it seemed to manifest as in this world. Her skin glowed faintly, and her eyes were clear, as though she’d had a long, deep sleep. 

“Hey. This is what we have so far. Coran said you’d know what to do with it.” Keith pushed the pile of sigils towards Allura, eager to get some more concrete work done. 

Allura sat, long, loose hair puffing out behind her, and started to look through it with sharp eyes and deft movements, reading through the pages Keith had marked. 

Keith turned back to his stack of books, the sound of turning pages quietly filling the room as they searched. 

Now that they were working towards the same goal, Keith thought he kind of liked the way Allura worked. She had a tendency to pick action over idleness and she had a sharp, rational mind. Not the most comforting person to be around, but then there had always been a reason Keith had always had very few friends. 

Friends. Like Pidge. There was no reception in ‘Heaven’ or whatever otherworld he was in, and the thought nagged at him incessantly. Pidge hadn’t picked up on the one call he’d tried before Allura brought him here. But going in without a plan was just as liable to get them all killed. 

Had she tried to contact him? Was everyone okay? There was no way of knowing until they got back. 

Keith let out an aggravated sigh at the seventh book in the row with nothing useful or interesting looking. 

Allura’s pile was dwindling steadily and at a far faster rate than Keith could replenish. It had stalled a bit, however, as she stared at one book, brow furrowed,  flipping from page to page and reading it over and over. 

“Is something wrong?’ Keith asked warily. 

Allura shook her head vehemently before going back to poring over the book. Long minutes passed before she finally looked up again. “It’s not an  _ easy _ solution, but it may not be impossible,” she cautioned as she put the book back on the page Keith had initially marked.

It was one of many, though Keith had remembered this one for the illustrations. They seemed to change, whenever he looked at them too long. The book itself, from what Coran had helpfully supplied, was a memoir of the events of the Divide, written by an angel who has since fallen in battle. 

“What is it?” Keith asked quickly. “What’s so unbelievable?” 

Slowly, Allura turned the book over, pushing it towards the middle of the table. “A solution that may make your insane plan possible.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think? I'm pretty excited about the next chapter. :'D 
> 
> Beta'ed by the wonderful TK and SC!


	11. Chapter 11

“Theoretically, anything can be sealed, with the correct procedure, the correct components, and the correct words,” Allura explained as they filled a sacred vase with holy water. It was one of many, to fence around the area where the seal would be built. The location they’d picked had some special significance Keith had forgotten, but it was now a large open plain, barren at this time of the year, grass sleeping beneath the dirt. The water would form, they hoped, an outer layer of protection.

It felt like busywork. Allura had told him, in no uncertain terms, that their plan may be doomed to fail, anyway, even if they could find the impossible list of items needed  _ and _ a means to lure Zarkon into it. 

Keith looked at the list. “Why do we need the bone of a saint? Doesn’t that seem morbid to anyone else?” 

“She was a cambion, though one redeemed by her service,” Allura said, tracing a circle in salt. 

“A what?”

“Half demon. Most of their kind go mad before they reach their full adulthood. She was quite young when she died.” 

Great. Graverobbing a dead kid.

“All of us are dust and to dust we return,” Allura reminded, sensing his distaste. “She’d hardly mind.” 

Keith was trying to puzzle out whether lamb sacrifices was vaguely demonic or not when he felt a presence at his back. 

He turned quickly, a jar of blessed oil in hand ready to be flung, but it was only Shiro. 

Shiro, whom he hadn’t seen in days. His heart skipped at the sight of him, dressed in a dusty, steel-colored overcoat. He was as ridiculously attractive as he’d been when he’d left, still seeming to brim with whatever energy he’d taken from Keith as his dark eyes snapped around the empty field. 

“Where were you? I couldn’t find you at all for  _ three days _ ,” he thundered, taking Keith’s raised wrist. “I thought you were a little more concerned than that.” 

“Of course I am! We were trying to find a way to save Matt!” Keith’s hands tightened around the jar’s clay handles.

“Good men have limits.” Shiro frowned at the line of salt and holy water, skirting around it. “What is this?” 

“The plan,” Keith replied, then returned the subject to Pidge’s brother. “How’s Matt?” 

“He’s alive, but weak. He should have been presented yesterday but Haggar’s been... preoccupied with the unrest after Sendak’s death. It’s not often someone that old disappears. I bought us a little time, but it won’t be long. Haggar’s older than anyone else I know, except for Zarkon himself.” Shiro looked around uneasily at the set-up. “This place… it makes me sick.” 

“It’s supposed to,” Allura said tartly, walking up to them. She seemed just as displeased to see Shiro as she ever was, tempered by their uneasy truce. 

“Your plan is to make a binding circle? It’ll never hold him.” Shiro’s eyes narrowed. 

“It will, if we get it right,” Keith said staunchly. He had to believe. “We’re just about done.” 

“So Matt is safe for now, right? Where is he?” Keith pressed a hand subconsciously over his pocket, where his phone, now inert after the trip to the metaphysical realm, rested. He hadn’t been able to call anyone since. They hardly had the time, anyway. 

“A house in the suburbs, a little outside Wyoming. I can take you there, but it would be suicide to approach with anything less than an army. And we know how that will turn out. Haggar remains in the vicinity, with about three hundred demons.” 

Three hundred demons- the thought was staggering to Keith. How would a house even fit that many? Were they spirits? The air had to be thick with malevolence. 

“We just need two more items,” Allura said briskly. “Coran will go looking for the bone. The other is trickier.” 

Keith frowned as he looked at the list. “The blood of the Beast?” 

“It’s more abomination than beast,” Allura said. 

“Abomina-- you can’t be serious.” Shiro’s mouth fell open slightly, shocked. 

“Yes I am. If it wasn’t going to be difficult I doubt it would have taken us this long to find a possible solution,” Allura said. “No other option will suffice.” 

“I’m not following,” Keith interrupted. “Is this some kind of really dangerous monster?” 

Allura pursed her lips. “He may as well be.” 

=

There was a brief scuffle over who would be taking Keith where, but eventually Allura won out. Shiro seemed to take the loss with good grace, stepping aside so she could hook her arms around Keith. It wasn’t the most glamorous way to travel, but it wasn’t like he could fly there by himself. 

“Ready?” 

“Just don’t drop me,” Keith warned. Who knew where he’d end up if she did. 

“If she does, I’ll catch you,” Shiro promised. 

Keith looked away, his heartbeat fluttering. “Thanks. Just try not to tear an arm off or anything.” 

The flight over didn’t feel much longer than usual, but when Keith opened his eyes next, he was looking at a glaring white wasteland. “Where is this place? Antarctica?” His teeth stuttered together, chattering. 

Shiro reached out towards him, tweaking reality to give him a layer of thick fur clothes. His hand drifted down Keith’s arm as it slid off, leaving him far warmer than the clothes had. He checked his pockets, reassured when he found everything in order. His fingers ran gently over the flat blade over his hip- a present from Heaven’s armory.

“There’s something to the old adage of Hell freezing over,” Shiro said, wry. His own coat had grown puffier, lined with dark, velvety fur. Allura’s had grown a fluffy hood of angora, her boots flowing up to cover her thighs.  

“Doesn’t look like anything here’s alive,” Keith observed. He looked around at the blank landscape. Nothing but rocks and ice and more ice. There wasn’t anything that could suggest anyone or anything lived here. 

“It’s up there,” Shiro said, pointing up a bluff. “I can sense him, a little.”  Now that Keith was staring, he could faintly make out some steps cut down the face of the cliff. Calling them stairs would be too generous. They were more like craggy footholds, barely wide enough to support a foot. 

“Can’t we fly up?” Keith asked, eying them with trepidation. He couldn’t remember the last time he had to go rock climbing.

“I wouldn’t, he’s likely to shoot us out of the air, from this close. He’ll be able to sense us,” Shiro advised, before Allura could speak.

“You keep calling this beast ‘he’,” Keith said as he trudged forward wearily. “But if it’s not an animal or anything, doesn’t it have a name?” 

“So glad you asked,” a silky-smooth voice said pleasantly in his ear. “It’s Lotor.” 

Keith stumbled away from the voice, slipping over the ice. He managed to recover with a quick roll, finding himself staring up at a handsome man of indeterminate age. His face was smooth and young, but there was something aged and implacable in his eyes, the same way Shiro and Allura’s were- but far more ancient still. It was like staring into a mountain, or a redwood grown tall over untouched land. Looking at him made Keith feel small. 

Lotor measured him, then passed his unhurried gaze to the left. “Allura. To what do I owe the terrible misfortune of seeing you again? I had thought you’d have died in the wars by now.” 

Allura tensed. That, more than anything, told else that Lotor was dangerous. Lotor’s hair was salt-white and fell down his back to his ankles, braided loosely. He was wearing a leather parka that swept out behind him, trailing on the ground. Tall, heeled boots went up to his knee. He wore no weapons, but somehow he looked sharp, like the edge of a blade. 

Back on his feet, Keith retreated uneasily, finding Shiro’s solid bulk behind him. Lotor’s eyes flicked to them. “And you brought a demon and a morsel with you. My, my, how the times do change. I had thought you’d not be caught dead with one unless you had your sword at their throat.” 

The way Lotor spoke to Allura spoke of a certain familiarity. But it was clear Allura found him just as repulsive as she did Shiro. What had gone on between them? Keith wondered. 

Lotor looked around, taking them in. “A most curious company. Not one I’ve seen in all the time I’ve been here. There must be important news indeed. Has someone finally won that dull little war?” 

Allura gasped with indignation, then mastered herself. “We’ve found a way to seal your father.” 

Lotor stilled. “Have you? Then why haven’t you wrestled him to his cage while he yet sleeps?” 

“We need your blood to do it,” Allura said boldly. “We both know how much you hate him for sending you to this forsaken place.” 

“The blood of the Beast to seal him,” Lotor murmured. “Naturally, he has none left in that dry husk he calls home.” He leaned back a little, considering. 

“But what do I care if he lives or dies? He ceased to exist the moment he banished me to this plane.” Lotor shrugged. 

“If Zarkon is gone,” Shiro said, speaking for the first time since Lotor had appeared, “then Hell’s throne would be empty. You could go back and take it as his rightful heir.” 

“And what would mother say about that? Ah, but she’s ever been the loyal little lapdog warming his feet, I wager. What little of her is left after her Fall would no doubt perish with my Father. No matter, still, I have no interest in the throne, be it dark or light.” 

“You don’t seem too fond of either of them,” Keith noted, steeling himself. “Why not help us?” 

Lotor’s eyes, Keith found, were a vivid ice blue, like the glowing heart of a glacier. They turned on him consideringly. “I owe nothing to them, this much is true. I was no sooner aware of myself; of my power, than I was cast out by their fear.” 

Keith frowned. What did that mean? What was Lotor supposed to be? Wasn’t he just another demon? Maybe one more powerful than the rest? 

“And yet,” his tongue clicked on the ‘t’, as though savoring the snap, “they were dead to me the moment I knew my fate. It matters not to me whether the rest of the world sees them live.” 

“It’s not going to be much,” Keith tried. “We just need a little blood and then we’ll be out of your hair.” 

Lotor shook his head. “I owe your world nothing. Leave, now. I grow tired of company.” He turned, about to walk away. 

Keith’s fist tightened around the dagger strapped to his side. He couldn’t leave without the blood- everything else had been set up already, this was the final piece- just a drop, that was all they really needed. If he could just get lucky, then Allura and Shiro could fly them away.

“Then we’ll take it by force,” he hissed as he ran up to plunge the knife into Lotor’s arm. 

“Keith, no!”

Keith bounced off like he’d rushed at the side of a truck, ricocheting and skidding into the snow. 

Lotor was unharmed, not a hair out of place. 

Shiro and Allura immediately took up arms in front of him, white-knuckled as Keith recovered. “Ah, I see now- he’s the Vessel, isn’t he? He’s Alfor’s get, although the blood thins to nothing,” Lotor mused. Rather than insulted, he seemed… intrigued. 

“You straddle two worlds, Nephilim, perhaps you know what it’s like. Half of my blood is the Beast, but the other half was the Voice of the choir, ere she fell into a twisted shade of herself.” He stepped forward, blowing Allura and Shiro back without lifting a finger. The ground beneath them broke into chunks, showing the depths of a void as it crumbled underneath them. The icy sea roared into the open space, rapidly flooding. 

“You can’t have him!” Allura shouted, throwing her sword at Lotor’s head. He tilted his head to the side, barely deterred, and crooked a finger. Allura screamed. 

Lotor laughed, a high sound, unlike the slow, cultured measure he’d had before. It made Keith think of iron gates and sterile rooms. 

“I can’t? But I  _ can _ ,” Lotor thrust out a hand, curling his fingers. Keith choked as pressure circled to crush his throat. He swung in the air, flying into Lotor’s grasp. 

Shiro caught him in mid air, barrel-rolling forward. They plunged into the sea, the cold searing them with frostbite. 

Keith drowned. He drowned for what felt like hours in the darkness, with nothing but the cold and the muffled feel of Shiro’s arms around him. Water coursed around them; floated in eddies as though it was weightless. 

  
It was so  _ cold _ . So  _ dark _ . Together, they fell into the void. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fun chapter to write. Let me know what you think! :') I'm hopefully wrapping up in a few more chapters, not including the interludes.


	12. Chapter 12

Matt had never even made it to the train station. 

Pidge frowned to herself as she pored over recorded video files from the city’s CCTVs. She rubbed her eyes, exhausted as she stubbornly stared at the screens. Lance and Hunk had already left long ago. The only sign of their presence in her room was the stone-cold coffee by her elbow, black and fathomless in the dim blue glow of her computer.

It simply didn’t make any sense. Matt had bought a ticket- she could see the confirmation right there in his inbox. They hadn’t found his phone or his bag or any sign of him since. Had he just run away? Disappeared? Been killed and disposed of for being witness to a crime? She just couldn’t make sense of it. Matt was well-liked. A bit of a nerd and a geek, sure, but he was a  _ personable _ geek. He was a little dumb and weak and she totally kicked his ass in every single video game worth bragging about. And he was her brother. Why would anyone want him? 

She rubbed at her eyes again, the ends of her sleeves wiping away at telltale tears. 

Keith hadn’t shown up in  _ any _ of the footage, either, not since he disappeared from Crystal Venom after an unknown altercation had ravaged the room. They’d tried calling his number, but couldn’t get a response. The last text they’d gotten was just some dumb thing about Pidge needing to be careful. Clearly  _ Keith _ was the one not being careful  _ enough.  _ Even his phone’s GPS signal was being wonky- sometimes she’d see it blinking, but it was out in the middle of nowhere, and then it’d be gone again and turn up in some other remote place. Trying to pin a pattern on  _ that _ was an exercise in frustration, even Hunk had agreed it was probably on the fritz. 

It couldn’t be coincidence. Two people just disappearing like that, with no trace… it was more than an accident. But the only link she could see was  _ herself _ . Keith and Matt only knew each other in passing through her. Apart from that, they were night and day. Matt was cheerful; Keith taciturn. Matt wanted to be an astronaut. Keith worked at an animal shelter and a bar. They were both healthy and male and young, but if that was the only requirement, it did not explain why nobody else had gone missing yet. Maybe that was it. Maybe that was the pattern. Maybe she had to  _ make it _ a pattern.

Pidge’s fingers flew over the keyboard, typing furiously. Matt had disappeared two states over. Keith had disappeared in this city. Was there some kind of midway point? Was it human trafficking? A serial killer? Or just some very odd cult? She hoped it wasn’t a killer. The lack of bodies kept her hopeful, but the pessimist in her whispered it was just a matter of time. The longer this went on, the more likely it was a body  _ would _ turn up-- cold.

She couldn’t let that stand. She had to do  _ something _ . Matt and Keith could be out there, waiting for her to find them. 

The chair clattered back as she got to her feet, heading for Matt’s old room. The police had been informed just that morning- they’d soothed her parents with words about an investigation underway. But she’d hacked into the local precinct’s database and there was nothing under Matt’s file. Nobody had even filed one for Keith, yet. 

The police didn’t care about her brother. They  _ definitely  _ didn’t care about a half-respectable vagabond like Keith. But she did. And she was going to do what they couldn’t. 

Pidge took a breath as she stepped inside Matt’s old room, turning the light on. She could hear her mother and father talking in their room, voices soft and indistinct through the walls. It reminded her of late game nights before Matt went to astronaut school. 

She opened Matt’s closet and surveyed her options. “Okay, so if I were a creepy kidnapper, what would I be looking for?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pidge interlude! :')

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find some other Voltron/Sheith stuff over: [@PepperPaprika](https://pepperpaprika.tumblr.com/)


End file.
